What Beyond
by Mendeia
Summary: Arc 3.5 of The Temple Steps Alight series. A set of oneshots that take place throughout the 2 years between Arc 3 and Arc 4 following our Sentinels, Guides, and allies as they grow from friends into a true tribe family. Some are funny, some are deep. Something for everyone!
1. Knowledge is Power

Life is the fire that burns and the sun that gives light. Life is the wind and the rain and the thunder in the sky. Life is matter and is earth, what is and what is not, and what beyond is in Eternity.

-Lucius Annaeus Seneca (Seneca the Younger)

* * *

Welcome to Arc 3.5! This will be a series of oneshot adventures that span approximately two years between the end of Arc 3 and the upcoming Arc 4. The oneshots will range from goofy to quite serious, depending upon the circumstances. I hope you enjoy them all!

Up first is a little adventure between Benton and Blair. Because when you add the Sandburg Zone to Quest luck, interesting things tend to happen!

Enjoy!

* * *

-==OOO==-

Knowledge is Power

-==OOO==-

"I love New York!" Blair said with a grin, looking happily out the window as the car bumped over the bridge.

"It's a lot nicer in the wintertime," Race nodded, agreeing. "All the holiday decorations really make the city shine. And the rain and snow keep some of the stink out of the air."

"But I wouldn't want to stay long," Benton said. "It's also a very busy time to be in the city."

"Yeah, but I thought Columbia was putting us up somewhere off the beaten track?" Blair asked.

"The hotel, yes. Not the university itself. While it's a great honor to be the final lecturer in their semester-long series, it virtually guarantees that the place will be packed."

"That's what you've got me for, Benton," Race said comfortingly.

Blair nodded, glad that he had successfully talked Jim into staying in Cascade. The Sentinel had not been pleased to have his Guide going off across the country without him, but there was no help for it. Cascade was deep in the last stages of a major crime spree and the best detective in Simon's department had been running ragged trying to keep up with it all. At some point the Major Crimes group had been forced to ask a few of the most acclimated of the Sentinels to step in and help on stakeouts just to make sure they didn't miss any busts in the mix. Jim's city needed him, so he had stayed. But he wasn't happy about it.

"We've got the lecture in a couple of hours at 10am, then lunch," Benton was saying. "That should give you the whole afternoon and evening to work your way through the library. We'll make sure you have privacy."

Blair tried to pretend he wasn't about to bounce out of his shoes, a neat trick when seated in the back of a car. Even a ridiculously early-morning flight hadn't been able to curb his enthusiasm. When Benton had invited Blair to accompany him to Columbia as an assistant, the Guide had been ecstatic. Columbia boasted one of the most complete libraries of Richard Burton's work in the world, and, with some negotiating by the esteemed Doctor Quest, it would be made available to him for the duration of their visit.

"Standard visiting security, Benton," Race said.

"I know, old friend. I know the drill."

"What's the drill?" Blair asked.

"Basically," Benton winked at his friend, "we stay out of sight while Race secures the area. Nobody gets too close unless he knows who he's dealing with. We have a false car waiting at a non-obvious departure point and we don't leave until we're sure that car hasn't been followed."

"Isn't that a little…paranoid?" Blair wondered.

"Better safe than sorry," Race growled. "Guarding Benton's my job. And Jim will skin me alive if anything happens to you, Sandburg."

"We'll be careful," Benton promised.

"Yeah. It'll be fine," Blair grinned.

-==OOO==-

Three hours later, Blair felt like kicking something. "It's not even my fault this time!"

"You're right," Benton sighed. "It's mine. I'm so sorry, Blair." He tried to scoot nearer to the younger man.

"No moving around, you two!" the man with the gun ordered roughly.

"You're going about this all wrong, you know," Blair said tiredly.

"Oh yeah? And what exactly do you know about it?" the man demanded.

"I don't even know how many times I've been kidnapped, tied up, or locked up," Blair shrugged. "Lots. Enough to get a doctorate in it, almost."

"So what am I doing that's wrong, then?"

Blair sighed. "Well, the car-jacking was good. Got us before Race could get into the car. So you're clearly smart and you knew what you were doing. But your choice of targets was pretty stupid. You'll never get away with doing anything to Doctor Quest."

"I ain't going to do nothing to him! I just want him to redistribute a little here."

Benton looked critically at the man. His skin was a pasty, pallid color, and he was thin almost the point of gauntness, but there was no obvious sign of any hard drug use. He also looked very unsettled.

"If it's money you want, you should know I am unable to give in to any attempt at extortion," Benton said carefully. "Otherwise it would be open season on myself and anyone I might choose as an associate or friend."

"Yeah, I know, you don't do ransom demands when it comes to your family. But what about him?" he pointed to Blair. "Will your bodyguard really not give me just a drop in the bucket of your bank account to keep him safe and sound?"

"That's your problem number two," Blair piped up. "I'm nobody. Doctor Quest's people would be as likely to pay money for _your_ safe return as mine."

Benton did not permit his face to twitch, but he caught Blair's eye and was amused at the fervent insincerity in his look.

"I don't believe you."

"You should, though. I've been through this rodeo before. It only works if the person you've got is willing to deal and if they've got something worth dealing for. Doctor Quest has already told you nobody will deal for him, and I can tell you that nobody will deal for me, either."

"I bet Quest here will deal for you," the man snapped back. "What do you say, Doc? Give me just a little advance, a clean million bucks, and I won't shoot so many holes through this guy that you could use him as a sieve."

"Something else to work on," Blair said, ignoring the glare over his head. "If you're going to threaten me, you've got to do it right. Use me as a sieve? Can you use people as sieves? Really?"

"With enough holes in you, sure!" the man growled. "Want to find out?"

"No, he really doesn't," Benton put in quickly.

"Good. Now shut up. I've gotta think."

"Yeah, 'cause that's going to get you far," Blair said snidely.

"Are you _asking_ for a bullet, you little piece of trash?" the man suddenly loomed.

Blair fought not to grin. Now he had the guy's attention. "Not a bullet. Just some common sense, man! Look, you've got the golden goose here and you're treating it like it's the feathers that matter! You gotta change your thinking, my friend."

"What are you talking about?"

"Okay. You want money, right? Well, Benton Quest definitely has that. But he isn't going to give it up for no good reason. So give him a reason, okay? He's a well-known humanitarian and philanthropist. If you're trying to get an organ transplant for a sick kid or to keep your old mom out of starvation, he'll give you anything you need. Just ask! Hell, he might even create a foundation just to help you out!"

Benton bit down on his tongue hard to keep from laughing.

"Is that true?" the man glared at Benton, still leaning over Blair.

"I have always tried to help people when I can," Benton said honestly, deliberately not looking at Blair waggling his eyebrows in meaningful communication. "Tell me. What is it that drove you to this point?"

As though he had been waiting for someone to ask that very question, the man began spilling out his life story. Throughout an hour-long, semi-coherent narrative, Benton and Blair learned that their captor's name was Andy, that he had been a drifter for most of his life with no interest in anything but sliding away from responsibility, that his girlfriend had recently broken up with him for mooching off her, and that he now had nothing and nowhere to go unless he received a huge influx of cash to offset his debts. He seemed to think he would be set if he could get a racecar crew together and start competing on the international circuit. Either that or start running a dirty-talk chat website online – his preference went back and forth.

"Well, it seems clear to me," Benton said when the man ran out of story, "that there's a good chance we could set up a charitable organization to help you reach your goals. There must be many people who are down on their luck who would benefit from being given the technology and a bit of start-up capital for a variety of web services."

Blair fought not to snicker.

"What do you think would be a reasonable annual stipend?" Benton asked.

"You're serious? You're not just messing with me?" Andy wanted to know.

"Even if he isn't serious, what's the harm in planning it out?" Blair shrugged. "He's still all tied up over there. He's clearly not going anywhere. What else does he have to do but figure out how to fix your problems? Even if he's lying through his teeth, you're still in control here."

"Good point. Okay. So, any salary I want?"

"Within reason, of course."

"A hundred grand a year."

"Okay," Benton nodded. "And what should we call this foundation?"

"What?"

"You want to name it, don't you?" Blair asked.

"Oh. Sure. And I guess I can't call it the Screw You All group or something. Though that would be fun. To have business cards that just said Screw You All!" Andy grinned at the thought.

"If I am going to write it off for tax purposes, it has to at least sound legitimate," Benton pointed out.

"Right. Gotta mess with Uncle Sam, too. Okay. How about Andy's Way? Like the United Way but just for me?"

Blair feigned a coughing fit as a distraction to keep Andy from seeing the open sniggering Benton was trying and failing to hide.

"You'll want some bylaws," Blair said. "Rules about who can and who can't get money from the organization."

"Do I get to decide it?" Andy asked.

Benton nodded. "Sure."

"Well, definitely me. Not Ross, because he's a dumbass. Not G-Pipe, because I owe him money and he ain't taking any of mine. Lucy's okay. She can join the way. And Pedro. Deshawn too. But Micky can go beg some other sucker. I ain't paying him a dime."

"I think we should start writing some of this down," Benton advised coolly. "The more we can record now, the easier to get the legal documentation together."

"Fine. But not you. Him," he said, jerking a thumb at Blair.

"Like I said, man. You're in control here," Blair assured him.

So the man moved to where he had thrown Blair into the opposite corner of the room of the dingy apartment in which he was holding them and cut the thick packing tape that bound his wrists and ankles. Blair rotated his wrists gratefully but waited for Andy to haul him to his feet.

"You start writing," he said, shoving Blair at an old table and a milk-crate approximating a chair. Blair found a pen and a napkin and started to dutifully write down everything that had been said while Andy looked on.

"Excellent," Benton nodded. "Now, of course, once you work for Andy's Way, you won't need to draw a stipend. You'll be paid to hand out money to the worthy cases you already mentioned and to manage the cash flow."

"Right, sure."

"Would that be a parabolic cash flow?" Blair asked, keeping his voice even.

"I think an inverse logarithmic scale is more appropriate, don't you?" Benton replied archly.

"Only if you're a chump!" Blair declared. "At least consider an ergonomic solution for the output."

"Do you want Andy to be investigated for banking fraud?!" Benton shot back. "The interest rates alone need to measure an anabolic trajectory with, at minimum, a quantum phase simulator!"

"What the hell are you two talking about?" Andy bellowed when he finally got a word in edgewise.

"Setting up your foundation," Benton answered primly. "But this preschool-level idiot doesn't know what he's doing."

"Do you know anybody good with numbers?" Blair asked. "Somebody who can help you make sure you set up your pay to reflect current market fairness in macroeconomic terms?"

"I got a bookie I don't owe no money to," Andy said.

"Good," Benton nodded. "Call him. We shall wait."

Andy pulled a cell phone from his pocket and turned his back on the pair of them. He set his gun down to dial.

And Blair took his opportunity to hit him over the head as hard as he could with the milk-crate.

"There's more of the tape over there," Benton gestured to the crusty kitchen counter which held the packing-tape dispenser. Blair dashed for it and swiftly secured their kidnapper. Then he bent to cut Benton loose.

"Anabolic trajectory, Benton?" Blair asked with a grin.

"An ergonomic output?" Benton shot back, grateful when the tape finally came apart and he could flex his hands freely.

"Yeah, I was having fun there," Blair nodded, retrieving the cell phone. "Would you like the honors, Benton?"

"No, go ahead. I'm still processing the fact that you called me a chump." Benton couldn't keep from laughing a bit.

While Blair called Race, who was clearly frantic and also very, very pissed off, Benton stretched his legs by walking to the table to see what Blair had been writing. As his eyes swept over the pile of napkins, he snorted.

"Is this the equation for your student loan interest rate?" he called.

"No, seriously, we're fine," Blair was saying firmly. "We are. I'm glad you traced the car, but we're, like, across the street or something. Look for the building that seems like it should be made of tetanus needles. We're in here. No, brown. The brown one. Oh for—" He looked up. "Stick your head out a window. Race needs directions."

Benton moved to the nearest window and ably forced it open, the cold winter air bursting into the stale room. He leaned out and waved. "Race! Up here!"

Blair joined him. "Race told us not to move because he wants to see if we're all right and he doesn't trust the stairs in this building."

"Well, in that he's perfectly correct." Benton turned back to their captive who was starting to blink. Blair hadn't hit him hard enough to knock him completely unconscious – just enough to incapacitate him for a few moments.

"Wha…wha happn'd?" Andy muttered.

"I'm sorry," Benton squatted before the prone man. "Andy's Way has been denied by the Bank of Race Bannon. I'm afraid you'll have to deal with prison instead."

"You…did you _annoy_ me into screwing up?" Andy asked as he woke up and glared at his former captives.

"Something like that," Blair shrugged. "It's a talent. I told you I've been captured way too often to not be good at it." He headed to the door to unlock and open it for the authorities.

"Well, Doctor Sandburg, if we hurry, I'm sure Columbia would give you space to deliver a lecture on the subject," Benton offered.

"No thanks," Blair shook his head. "I'm going to get enough of a lecture when we get back to Cascade and Jim finds out. I don't suppose we could just, you know, _forget_ to mention this?"

"Not a chance, Sandburg," came Race's voice. "Jim's on the phone and he wants to talk to you. Now."

Blair took the phone in Race's outstretched hand gingerly, as though it might explode. Then he weaved back through the pair of police officers who had been first into the apartment and were beginning to read Andy his rights.

"Hi Jim!" Blair said all too brightly into the phone.

Even across the room, the bellow of "SANDBURG!" was clearly audible.

"Lovely to hear your dulcet tones also, Jim," Blair said blithely. "Jim, I'd like you to talk to my new friend Andy. We've got a whole new business plan to discuss…"

"Get me out of here!" Andy yelled suddenly. "Anything to keep them from talking to me anymore!"

The officers, caught between astonishment and hilarity, hauled Andy to his feet and out the door.

"See, Jim? I'm fine. Oh, but Benton called me a preschool-level idiot."

"And you called me a chump!" Benton protested.

"And I am calling this little adventure over," Race declared, grabbing the phone back from Blair. "Chill out, Ellison. I'm going to watch them look up books in a library all afternoon and I'll get them back to Cascade before midnight. Okay mom?" And he hung up without waiting for a response.

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea," Benton said.

"What? Getting back tonight?" Race frowned in confusion.

"No. Giving us access to more scholastic resources," Benton grinned brightly. "We may learn entirely new ways of confusing and outwitting criminals!"

"Or finding better comebacks," Blair added.

"Maybe I better do some reading of my own," Race grumbled as he led the way downstairs.


	2. Inevitability

Hi all!

This one's a little different. It is time to bring some old friends back into the fold.

Do note that this particular oneshot actually takes place in 2 different periods within the pair of years between Arc 3 and Arc 4. The first half is pretty close to the end of Arc 3, the second a while later. I could have broken them into two different oneshots and set them both in the right place in time, but I thought they worked better as a unit in spite of the time skip. I hope you agree.

Enjoy!

* * *

-==OOO==-

Inevitability

-==OOO==-

Ngama arrived at the Chancery that summer rather battered and bruised – in spirit as well as in body.

"What you must understand," he said in a resigned voice as he sat on the rescued armchair in the front room surrounded by his friends old and new, "is that what I have done in coming here is contrary to my father's wishes. He is not yet of the opinion that my Sentinel abilities are anything other than a manifestation of some form of mental disease."

"Dad said he was going to call Doctor Zimbati to talk to him about it," Jonny frowned.

"He did," Ngama answered. "But my father...he is a stubborn, proud man. Even for the debt he owes Doctor Quest, even for their years of collaboration and friendship, this he could not countenance."

"Hold on," Eric held up a hand. "I get that your dad isn't down with you being a Sentinel, not that it's any of his business anyway. I get that he made life hell for you and didn't want you coming here and had your life all mapped out for you already." He met the younger man's gaze steadily. "I _really_ get that."

Everyone in the house was comfortable with the fact that Eric was very happily dating Hadji's former roommate Chris, and Ngama, while surprised when he had been told, had been untroubled by it as well.

"What I don't get is why you've got _that_." And he pointed at the dark swelling just above Ngama's left temple.

"It was not my father, if you are concerned," Ngama said quickly.

"We believe you," Jessie smiled. "We're not saying that."

Hadji and Lai had been brewing tea for their new housemate, and their arrival to the conversation helped relax some of the tension in the air. In addition to the much-needed mug of warm tea that Lai pressed into the young man's hand, on the tray they bore an ice pack, which Hadji affixed with swift efficiency to Ngama's head.

"My father refused to accompany me to the airport," Ngama admitted at last. "He said if I were so dependent upon my delusion that I could not trust his better judgment, I could walk away and never return. I think he believes that, when it is proven that my delusions are an illness rather than a gift, I will shame him somehow."

"You got jumped, didn't you?" Jonny surmised.

Ngama nodded miserably. "You recall I have never been as robust as some, nor have I ever been taught to fight. If not for the fact that most of my money and papers were concealed, I might have lost my passport and ticket. As it stands, I have little more left to me than you see here."

Eric felt a dark anger growing in his chest and looked up to see it reflected in the others. Burning with the heat of injustice were Jonny and Jessie and Daryl. Of course Lai was upset, though it might lack the heat of their more aggressive friends. Hadji's resignation surprised Eric until he recalled what he had been told about the Indian's own upbringing; he realized that Hadji could be just as furious though unsurprised. But for Eric, an outcast himself because of his sexual orientation, it was so much more personal.

"How much time do we have before we head out?" Daryl asked, finally looking up. As soon as the exhausted and bedraggled Ngama had appeared at the airport, Daryl had taken charge of the one bag he carried, and for the duration of the introductions and conversation he had been carefully cleaning and repairing it.

"We have a few hours yet," Hadji said. "Doctor Quest thought that we should head up to the lodge for the evening meal to introduce Ngama to the other Sentinels and begin establishing his own position there. But he did not think we needed appear sooner than that."

"Perfect," Jonny stood up. "Plenty of time."

"Time for what?" Lai asked. The others rose as well, Lai offering a steadying arm to Ngama.

"Ngama, we're going to take you shopping. Hadji and I can cover any expenses you might have. You need a full wardrobe, a laptop, plus some basics like a book about Cascade and maybe even some foods and cooking utensils that will make you feel more at home. We're going to restock everything you should have been able to bring with you."

"My friend," Ngama held out a hand, "you cannot –"

"Wait," Hadji interrupted him. "Less than a year ago, when we encountered you by chance, it was your suggestion that brought the herbal remedy that saved Jonny's life and later enabled Jonny and I to save the city of Cascade from a fire. We do not take that debt lightly." With a blazing intensity, he held Ngama'z gaze. "I owe you my Sentinel's life. You may claim _anything_ it is within my power to grant."

"And I sure wouldn't be part of this without Jonny, and it's the best thing that's ever happened to me," Eric put in. "So that's me, too."

"We can't do anything about that bruise," Lai said. "But telling a room full of a hundred Sentinels that you got in a fight is different from telling them you were mugged and had all of your belongings taken from you."

"Dad will want to know eventually," Daryl said. "He gets weird about stuff like this. But we don't have to tell everybody how things went down right away."

"You're here," Jessie smiled. "There's lots of time to fix things with your dad after you get comfortable and make the adults worry. But this is something we can fix on our own."

"I am sorry to join your home with little but sorrow and a tale of woe," Ngama said. "Being here, to be preparing to study at Cascade and to master my senses...it's all I could ask for. And yet you offer me still more."

"You'd do the same for us if we showed up on your doorstep in Cameroon, wouldn't you?" Eric asked pointedly.

"Of course."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Jonny said. "We've got a bunch of stuff to acquire to get this guy settled!"

"And Ngama?" Eric said as the group began to head for the back-door.

"Yes?"

"After we get you all settled, well, we set up kind of a sparring area in the basement. Any time you want, today or later or whatever, I can give you a few pointers."

"I would like that," Ngama smiled.

"And," Lai added, "if you have any trouble with your international status, I can call my mom, too. Though SELF is pretty powerful all on their own. It never hurts to have another advocate, though."

"I...don't know what to say."

"Say that you'll let Eric and Race teach you to defend yourself," Jessie said firmly. "Say that you'll let Jonny and Hadji buy you stuff and you'll put up with living with all of us and you'll work on your senses and you'll become whatever you want to be. That's all we want."

"We are tribe," Jonny said, meeting Ngama's eyes and feeling their souls resonate to that truth. "All of us."

"What we do for you," Hadji said, sliding next to his brother as the air crackled with the concealed power of the Sentinels and his own spirit, "we do for one another. We do for ourselves. We do because we can and because we must. Because we are one tribe together. One family."

And so Ngama's bleak beginning seemed suddenly brighter.

-==OOO==-

Kaimi came a few weeks later, but her arrival was no less dramatic.

"I wasn't sure the house would still be standing!" she shouted against the storm as the car pulled up and Jim pulled open her door for her.

"No worries on that front!" Jonny laughed as he climbed out into the wet. "It's very stable."

Still, the typhoon-level storm sweeping up the coast had made her travel rather hairy and her luggage was soaked before she managed to wrangle it along the small walkway that divided the detached garage from the house and into the back door to the kitchen. Jim and Blair had gone with Jonny to pick her up at the airport, and it took all three of them to get the door wrenched open and the luggage safely inside before they were washed away.

"You made it! Good thing, too!" Jessie cried as she dashed into the kitchen. "They just announced that they're shutting the airport down until the storm passes."

"After that shaky landing, I can see why!" Kaimi grinned. She tossed back her long black hair, streaked with green this time, in thick, wet clumps. "I think I should have come a month ago like Ngama did."

"And miss the storm? Where's your sense of adventure?" Blair teased.

"I guess I left it back on Maui," she replied.

Jim was busy sorting out her bags, trying to wipe them down with the towels Lai had thoughtfully left by the back-door for that very reason, when he felt the _shift_ in the room.

Looking up, he smiled.

The kitchen had turned into a miniature zoo. The jaguar and wolf were out, sitting near their respective Sentinel and Guide. Jonny's red fox was perched on a counter-top and Hadji's tawny eagle sat sedately beside it; Jonny and Hadji had both retreated to their corner. Eric, Lai, Jessie, and Daryl, all without spirit animals, had gravitated to the far end of the room, leaving the center of the room free.

"Hi." Kami had just taken her coat off, Jim pulling it from her fingers before she let it drop without realizing.

"It is good to see you again," Ngama said, and though the words were stiff, his face was more open and yearning than Jim had ever seen it.

There had been a pretty lengthy debate about when or if Kaimi would be introduced to SELF and the group's secrets. She did not know she might be a Guide and had learned little-to-nothing about Jonny's Sentinel nature in their two brief interactions in the past. Ultimately, when the decision had been left to the housemates (since she would otherwise be the only one in the house not in on the secret, so it would be up to them to maintain), they had decided to let fate show them the way – that was how Hadji explained it to Benton and Jim and Blair, anyway. If Kaimi was not made aware of her inherent suitability as a Guide naturally, then they could decide to bring her into the fold after she had gotten settled. But if it was clear earlier, they would simply take whatever opportunity presented itself.

As, apparently, was happening now.

On the center of the floor, a honey badger had appeared and was peering at Kaimi closely. Blair nudged his partner an instant before a black-footed albatross appeared, waddling awkwardly on the floor to meet the honey badger beak-to-nose.

"I'm...glad to see you, too," Kaimi said.

When the honey badger and albatross touched, Ngama and Kaimi both shivered.

The pairs of Guides and Sentinels grinned brilliantly. Everything was going to be all right now.

-==OOO==-

It was more than a year later that Kaimi and Ngama burst into Blair's office at the SELF house one Friday afternoon.

"Blair, have you got a minute?" Kaimi asked breathlessly.

"Yeah, of course," Blair said, waving them to chairs. "Everything okay?"

"Um. Yes. Everything is fine," Ngama looked supremely uncomfortable.

"We need to talk to someone. And, I mean, we could talk to anybody, I guess, but you're the one we both think we should talk to first, so..." Kaimi looked down at her shoes.

"Well, I'm all ears," Blair invited.

Kaimi and Ngama exchanged nervous glances. All at once, Ngama reached for Kaimi's hand and held it tightly, pulling it against his chest and keeping it there.

"You know that we have been dating for some time now?" he began.

"Since you met in the kitchen when Kaimi got here, yeah," Blair smiled. "Your spirit animals were kissing before either of you had even gotten any good at seeing them."

At this, both young people blushed. Blair got a sudden suspicion.

"We knew," Kaimi said softly. "The same way that Jonny and Hadji knew they were always going to be Sentinel and Guide together. Even when I didn't know I was a Guide, I think I knew. I definitely knew it that day I arrived to live here."

"You may recall, I was there the day that Jonny and Hadji bonded, in which Jonny brought Hadji back from death by the power of their connection." Ngama's usual calm demeanor was overtaking his nerves. "My ability to see with my Sixth sense was much less then for I had not been practicing it, but I was aware of what transpired, at least in essence."

"Tell us about the bonding," Kaimi requested. "Please?"

"I imagine it feels different for every Sentinel and Guide who connect in that way," Blair said carefully. "For me, it was the last warmth before I vanished into the cold of passing onto the next world. That flash of light, when my wolf met Jim's jaguar, though. That feeling...that wasn't momentary. It..." He put a hand on his chest. "It's like feeling the whole universe in your heart, like you are somehow able to hold it inside you, like the peace of the stars flows through your veins and the song of life sings in your lungs. It's not...well, it _is_ love," he coughed. "But it's not what you read about or see on TV. It's...profound."

Then he peered closely at them. "But you already know that, don't you?"

Kaimi and Ngama looked to one another with surprise, and both began to smile.

"I thought so!" Blair grinned. "I couldn't tell right away, but the longer you sat here, the more obvious it became."

"Hadji and Jonny both looked at us strangely this morning," Ngama said. "I believe they could perceive the difference too."

"So, I have to ask, are you all right?" Blair leaned forward with a serious expression. "For me and Jim as well as Jonny and Hadji, it was a life-or-death type thing. But I imagine I'd have heard about it before now if one of you had been in danger of dying yesterday."

"Oh!" Kaimi suddenly flushed bright red. "No...no, it wasn't anything like that. We...uh..."

"We discovered another way to consecrate a bond," Ngama rescued her. "One far more, ahem, positive."

Blair almost coughed on his tongue. "You mean...Jim and I could have...if we'd...?"

"I don't quite know," Ngama said, maintaining his composure with rigid control, though his eyes danced between amusement and embarrassment. "I believe it cannot merely be the carnal act of, uh, forging a union, but...something in the emotional intimacy."

"And," Kaimi spoke softly, "we both wanted it. We both wanted the connection."

"That makes sense," Blair nodded. "Both of you are almost caught up to us in learning about the Sixth and Seventh. We're all finding out that what a Sentinel and Guide will to happen actually _can_ happen because of the Seventh if the Guide is powerful enough." He looked more closely at Kaimi. "Did it wipe you out? Make you feel like you'd run a marathon?"

"Just about," she affirmed. "But it was worth it. I can feel..." She rested her free hand over her heart. "I can feel Ngama. I can feel his spirit animal. I can feel what Hadji talks about, that I will never be without him and he will never be without me."

"And you're okay with that?" Blair had to ask.

"More than okay," Ngama smiled at Kaimi and kissed the hand he held cradled against him. "I am content and fulfilled as I never imagined was possible. I no longer fear myself or my future. I have a Guide to lead me through all the days of our lives."

"If it had been up to me," Kaimi tossed her head with her more familiar spark of personality, though her eyes never left Ngama's face and her smile was genuine, "I'd have laid claim to him the first week we were in the Chancery together. Even before I knew about this stuff, I knew I wanted him. I knew..."

"You knew that your place for life was at the side of someone you wanted to lead, follow, help, and drive forward all at once," Blair finished. "You knew your soul was built to shelter and protect and be protected by another and finally it all fit together."

"Yes, exactly."

"Well, congratulations," Blair smiled at them both. "It's up to you who you tell, but you'll get found out the next time you're up at the lodge, of course. And...well...there might or might not be an unofficial betting pool going on as well. So the sooner you put the losers out of their misery, the better."

Ngama laughed. "We'll keep it in mind."

-==OOO==-

Later that evening, Kaimi and Ngama called a house meeting and announced their bonding to the other denizens of the Chancery. No one was really surprised – they'd been expecting it all along. What did catch at least some of the friends off guard was that Kaimi and Ngama were not yet willing to change up the house's living arrangements in spite of the fact that this last barrier had fallen between them rather spectacularly and permanently. But Ngama's room as the only single in the house was quite small and Kaimi absolutely loved her shared space with Lai and Jessie.

"Privacy when you want it, company when you don't," Eric said only smirking a little.

"Something like that," Kaimi winked at him.

"Should we be throwing you two a congratulations party?" Lai wanted to know.

Both Kaimi and Ngama shook their heads violently. "No thank you!"

"Don't worry," Jessie assured her. "We'll save that for when they want to have the wedding. Then we can go nuts."

"You'll have to wait a while," Kaimi said. "Which is funny, since we're clearly bonded now for life. For more than one life, if Hadji's right," she tipped her head to him. "But it's still different to actually, you know, get married. We don't have to be in a hurry. It's not like either of us is going anywhere," she smiled at Ngama fondly.

"Plus, your mom might flip out if you get married before you get your degree," Jonny pointed out.

"That too," Kaimi acknowledged.

"So, business as usual, then?" Daryl shrugged. "With a little more happy in the Sentinel-Guide world. That sounds like an okay deal to me."

"We have just one question," Ngama said, a smile hovering at the edge of his lips.

"What's that?" Eric asked.

"Who won the betting pool?"

Five faces suddenly twisted in disgust and they all turned to point at Hadji. "Him."

"Was it a thing where you pick a month or a week or something?" Kaimi wanted to know.

Hadji shook his head. "No. One chose a day in each month, with a double bet on one specific day."

"And yesterday was your doubled bet?" Ngama asked.

"Of course."

"How did you know, Hadji?" Jonny demanded. "You had that day picked out months ago!"

"Some things in this world are inevitable, my friend. Some things must happen when it is time for them to happen, and no force known to any man or god may change their course. The wise learn to listen for the sound of fate."

"Fate, huh?" Jonny regarded his own Guide with a suddenly fond smile. "Yeah, I can live with that."

Kaimi and Ngama curled together on the couch. As one, they whispered, "So can we."


	3. The Sandburg Zone

Just a little one for this week.

(Yes, I absolutely keep lists. They are, however, not nearly as entertaining!)

Enjoy!

* * *

-==OOO==-

The Sandburg Zone

-==OOO==-

One of the only ways Blair kept his life together was by his copious use of notes and lists. When he'd been a student, he had gotten into the habit of writing down everything he needed to remember so he wouldn't have to remember it – that way he could focus his brain on what he was doing in the here-and-now and not trying to recall whether or not he should run and buy groceries. And it worked, by and large, particularly with his use of shorthand and motivational reminders. Every page, for example, had a stamp on it that a friend at Rainier had bought for him his sophomore year that said "Meditate, Drink Tea, & Be Happy." It was trite, but it also cheered him up every time he saw it.

Life with Jim and as a Guide meant that keeping track of everything he needed to get done in a given day was even more important. Benton offered Blair the use of an organizer, or even to have the Quest system remind him of items on his calendar, but Blair preferred his manual, pocket notebook anyway. It was familiar and real in a world that seemed determine to push the boundaries of his belief on a fairly regular basis.

It was also one of the places in life where Blair was most honest with himself. He might never admit to his friends or his Sentinel that he needed reminders to eat and sleep, that he knew perfectly well which day's chores were just not going to get done – but he knew for himself and he put that in the lists too. He had a habit of adding commentary sometimes, as well, which only made his lists even more accurate.

When things got hectic, as in world-ending hectic or terrorists-taking-over-Cascade hectic or gone-to-Russia-to-rescue-certain-stubborn-Sentinels hectic, he tended to scratch out the whole list with a marker and call the day or week a bust. Because his normal days were hectic enough!

Monday:

Breakfast with Jim at the loft  
Laundry  
Clean room? Probably not  
Office hours at SELF house  
Make plans for SELF classes  
Lunch with Jim at station  
Afternoon shift with Jim at station  
Dinner at lodge with SELF Council for planning/check-in  
Monday sensory class  
Monday Russian language immersion group  
Sleep at loft

Tuesday:

Breakfast with Jim at the loft  
Clean room?  
[Scratched out due to Triad gang war including hostage situation at bagel shop and car chase which ended with a swim to a barge in the middle of the Sound to defuse a bomb and rescue a bunch of endangered iguanas]  
Sleep at loft

Wednesday:

Breakfast with Jim at the loft  
Laundry plus dry-cleaning Jim's coat  
Give statement at station RE yesterday  
Paperwork at station RE yesterday (paperwork probably requires skipping lunch and working throughout the afternoon)  
Dinner at lodge with Sentinels (*make time to arrive early so all Sentinels can assure themselves I am fine because it was on the news and from the picture I looked like a fried, mud-caked rat)  
Weekly argument with Jim RE whether I'd be safer at SELF full-time  
Catch ride with Simon back to the loft when Jim tries to leave me behind for "reasons"  
Argue with Jim again – win argument!  
Sleep at loft

Thursday:

Breakfast with Jim at the loft – conciliatory pancakes  
Morning Thursday sensory class at lodge  
[Scratched out due to robbery of bank that caused massive traffic accident; ended up pursuing suspects with Jim in a truck full of pigs into the boonies before a massive, pig-themed shootout where Jim took a graze to the shoulder and I got a face full of pigpen mud]  
Sleep at loft

Friday:

Breakfast with Jim at the loft  
OMG LAUNDRY  
Give statement at station RE yesterday  
Remove all pig-themed toys that appear on my desk  
Paperwork at station RE yesterday  
Remove pig-themed noises from outgoing voicemail message  
Lunch with Jim at station  
Deliver giant mud-pie to Henri's desk and "accidentally" upend it  
Afternoon make-up sensory class for yesterday's group at lodge  
Afternoon make-up Romance Languages study group at lodge  
Dinner at Chancery with kids  
Movie night at Chancery with kids  
Late-night discussion of Guiding with Hadji and Kaimi at Chancery while Jim argues with others about basketball  
Unintentionally sleep at Chancery on couch

Saturday:

Breakfast with Jim at the loft  
Grocery shopping  
Clean room?  
[Scratched out due to interception of holdup of convenience store, during which Jim dropped his gun twice and I took out a punk with ballistic flour]  
Compensatory Jags game from Benton, who offers to cover all SELF classes for next weekend after the bad week I've had! (Benton is _best_!)  
Sleep at loft

Sunday:

Breakfast with Jim at the loft  
Grocery shopping (without the punks this time)  
Disconnect phone so Simon can't call on traceable line to demand we come in to fill out paperwork RE yesterday  
Prep sensory classes for next week – 1/day and 2 on Tues/Thurs to make up for missed this week  
Lunch with Jim at loft  
Chores with Jim at loft (aka How To Get Oil Stains Off A Ceiling 2.5 Stories High)  
Weekly basketball game with SELF at lodge  
Weekly trip to med station for inexplicable basketball injury at lodge (This time it was Race's knee in my eye, and Daryl also somehow accidentally punched the backboard?)  
Dinner at lodge with SELF  
Sunday sensory class  
Clean room?  
Sleep?


	4. Mountains

For all those who are not neuro-typical out there, you have all my love and respect forever.

Also, Brian Rafe and Henri Brown prove, once again, to be quietly awesome.

Enjoy!

* * *

-==OOO==-

Mountains

-==OOO==-

"Simon? Uh, we've got a weird sort of little problem."

"No, Sandburg. Do _not_ tell me that," Simon growled into his phone. "Not today."

"Fine. I won't. How's the weather three hours away?" Sandburg asked blithely.

"Don't you start with me!" Simon threatened. "Fine! Just tell me what's going on."

"Okay. So, we finally got all the signatures and we were getting ready to move Angie and…well…"

Simon resisted the urge to throw something from his desk through his office window. "How hard can it be to load a nineteen-year-old girl into the van? And what the hell are Rafe and Brown doing? Getting ice cream?"

"They're trying to negotiate with her."

"She doesn't want to come?" Simon was surprised. "You told her all about the Sentinel thing, right? Didn't she believe you?"

"Oh, she believed me," Blair laughed. "She's good. She must have gotten used to some bad drugs at some point because she's got a really keen knack for telling hallucinations from reality. She can see spirit animals and she knows they don't come from whatever pills they had her on. No, it wasn't that."

"Then what's the problem? Do you need me to send Jim? Or Benton?"

"I don't think it'll help," Sandburg sighed. "Besides, they're both busy. Unless somebody tried to burn down the courthouse again?"

"Not this time. Ellison's stuck giving testimony," Simon snorted.

"And Benton's meeting with one of his foreign contacts. Even Race said not to interrupt them short of SELF burning down or one of the kids being abducted." Blair sighed again. "Look, there's an obvious solution here, but I just don't want to make the call all on my own, and Dmitri and Ivanna aren't picking up at the lodge."

"All right. Lay it on me."

"Angie wants to bring a friend along with her."

-==OOO==-

"Angie, listen, it isn't that we want you to abandon your friend," Brian said gently, sitting on the bed before the girl.

"But if I go with you, that's what I'll have to do!" she shot back, glaring at him from over her knees where she had drawn them up to her chest. "Melly's the only one besides you who's ever been nice to me!"

"Come on, baby girl," Henri squatted at the side of the bed. "Don't you think Melly would want you to get out of here? Go where you can learn how to control all this stuff? And not have to be scared anymore?"

"A'course she does! And she needs to come with me!"

Brian tipped his head. "Other than you wanting her with you, why does she _need_ to come?" he asked carefully.

Angie blinked at her brother. "Melly gets bad dreams. Really bad dreams. She screams and screams until the nurses have to drug her. But if I'm here, if I can get to her before the nurses do, they stop. I always hear her when the dreams start, but I don't always get out of my room in time."

Brian and Henri traded a wry look. They both knew that Angie had figured out how to jimmy the locks on the doors in the ward years ago, and they'd never bothered to dissuade her. She couldn't get through the electronic keypads that isolated the ward from the rest of the hospital, and she'd never gotten in trouble; they'd been fine looking the other way and leaving the girl some semblance of freedom. Apparently she had put that freedom to good use.

"I _promised_ her," Angie said with a sob climbing up her throat. "I promised her I'd take care of her!"

There was a tap on the door and Blair entered. "Me again," he smiled.

Angie managed a watery smile in return but didn't look up. "Hi Blair. That man sounded mad. But he didn't yell at you."

"No," Blair shook his head. "Simon worries about me, but he isn't angry. I just wanted his opinion."

"I didn't hear all of it," Angie admitted. "I'm not so good at listening far away and staying here without falling asleep and getting woken up by nurses later."

"Zoning out," Blair nodded. "We'll teach you how not to do that if you come with us."

"Not without Melly," she said stubbornly.

"I know. Tell you what. Can you take me to see Melly? I assume your brother knows her already." Blair looked to Brian who gave a nod. "I'd like to meet your friend, if it's okay."

Blair held out a hand and waited.

Angie considered the hand for a long while. Normally she avoided touch whenever possible. Sometimes even the pressure of clothing hurt until she scratched herself bloody. But even when it wasn't that, sometimes she just couldn't stand the idea of something on her skin. It made her feel twitchy and nervous.

But Blair was different. From the moment he'd walked in the room with Brian and Henri, whom she had taken to calling Henny much to her brother's delight, Angie had liked Blair. He didn't try to stare into her eyes when he talked to her like some people did. He didn't take offense that she didn't touch him or look at him. He didn't seem uncomfortable around her at all, in spite of everything she'd ever seen from nurses and doctors and visitors who all moved around her jerkily as though they turned to robots when they saw her. And Blair's voice was low and easy to listen to, and it soothed the spiking storm that took up residence between her ears when noise got too loud.

Plus, he had explained being a Sentinel to her, and he had a wolf that trotted beside him who was happily curled up on the floor by the closet with her little mountain beaver tucked into its side.

"Okay," she said. She reached out and took his hand, smiling shyly.

"Nice one," Henri said softly. "Took me a year to be able to do that."

"Blair's special," Angie told him firmly.

Brian grinned at her, the deep happy grin she had learned meant he was particularly proud of her, "Yes, he is."

Angie climbed off the bed and padded out of the room, not bothering with her shoes because they were too tight and the laces itched the tops of her feet. Blair moved at her side and did not let go of her hand, but he also didn't pull on it or try to help her along faster. When she stopped in the middle of the hall to listen, he stopped with her and waited, not asking any questions but letting her decide when to move again. Behind, Henri and Brian followed quietly.

Blair blinked as a brown blur appeared and disappeared outside the door to a room.

"That's Melly," Angie said.

Understanding washed through Blair and he allowed Angie to open the door without knocking. "Hi Melly."

"Hi Angie!" came a cheerful answer.

Blair studied the girl in the room carefully. She was younger than Angie – he'd put her age at 15 or thereabouts. And with the discerning eye of an anthropologist, he decided her most likely heritage was Latin American, but she could have some American Indian or something else playing into it from her bone structure. He had to blink again when she sprang unevenly from her bed for Angie to move in and hug her. Melly was missing a foot.

"This is Blair," Angie told her friend. "He knows why I can hear things and feel things nobody else can. You can tell him stuff if you want to."

Melly peered at Blair through too-old eyes and said, "I won't let you hurt Angie."

"I don't want to hurt Angie," Blair said honestly.

"I won't let you tell her she's broken," Melly warned with real passion, curling around the taller girl protectively and shifting their position so she was between Angie and the three men. "She's _not_ broken."

"Of course she's not broken," Brian said, slipping past Blair to face the girls. "Neither of you is broken. There's nothing wrong with you. You're just different."

Melly looked away from the detective. "Different is hard." She tried to sound angry but Blair heard the pain.

"I know it is," Brian said softly. "But it's okay. Everybody has mountains they have to climb in their lives, kiddo. Everybody. It's just that sometimes yours are inside you, and you lose your grip. You slide down into the valley inside. But you're not broken just because you got a cruddy mountain inside that's hard to climb. Neither of you." He looked to his sister, who met his gaze in a rare display of trust and smiled.

Blair looked to Melly. "I want to help Angie. I know more about why she is special than most people, and I can teach her to control those abilities. I can help her climb her mountain differently. There are people who make it easier for her, make the mountain doable in a way the doctors never imagined. But you already know that, don't you?"

Melly nodded once.

"What do you mean, bro?" Henri asked, crowding in the doorway.

Blair turned and smiled ruefully. "Well, it just got both more complicated and less. Melly's Angie's Guide."

-==OOO==-

It took some fast talking by the master of obfuscation, but eventually he got the inside information on Melissa Britton from the head nurse of the department.

"Abandoned as a little kid," he summarized to Brian and Henri. "Melly's been in and out of foster care but she keeps winding up back here because of her other problems. She's bipolar and also has Type I diabetes. When she first came into the system, they had to take her foot off because it was in such bad shape since her mom or whoever wasn't taking care of her. She's been a ward of the state ever since."

"And she's Angie's Guide?" Brian asked. "You're sure?"

"Oh yeah," Blair nodded. "They're not bonded yet – I have a theory that Melly isn't really old enough to handle it. But she's got a full spirit animal. Angie says it's a Boreal Owl. Anyway, it's tiny and it's always with her except when it's with Angie."

"How come she never told us about it?" Henri wanted to know.

"Probably because you couldn't see it yourself. They've spent a long, long time learning that even people with the best intentions will think they're hallucinating even when they know they aren't."

Brian patted Henri on the shoulder. "Don't stress it. I get it. Can't blame either of them."

Blair smiled to himself, knowing Angie was probably listening in and grateful that she could overhear her brother's easy acceptance and blameless trust. Both the girls had been through enough to deserve an honest discussion. He would have been in favor of sharing it with them directly and openly, but the nurses had said it was time for them to go to lunch and had escorted the men away so they could get the ward organized for mealtime. When they had been shooed away, Angie had been in the process of very carefully helping Melly affix her prosthetic foot, chiding her for going without it just because she was embarrassed that it squeaked.

"So what do we do now?" Henri asked. "Technically Angie's over 18, but because she's been declared mentally incompetent, you can force her to leave since you're her guardian. But I bet you don't want to."

Brian shook his head. "No way. It's her life. Her choice."

"And her choice is to stay with Melly," Henri said. "Great."

"Like I said, this makes things easier and harder at the same time," Blair said. "Easier because, since Melly's a Guide, I can invoke my DHS credentials and take over her case. She's a ward of the state. As long as I can charm her caseworker into accepting my authorization, I can put her into federal custody and get the DHS to handle the Child's Services part. Then we could legitimately bring her along."

"I hear a 'but' coming," Henri said, raising an eyebrow.

"You'd be right," Blair turned his gaze fully to Brian. "Even if I can do it _legally_ , I can't do it _ethically_ , Rafe. I can't whisk that little girl away from the help she needs and set her up at the lodge just like that. This is a girl who probably doesn't require institutionalization, but she needs regular visits to qualified doctors, both a therapist and a medical doctor to help her manage her diabetes. She needs someone who will make her a priority. She needs someone to help her finish growing up so she can be Angie's Guide. Angie's old enough to transition to life at SELF with some help. Melly would need a lot more."

"How much more are we talking here?" Henri asked, watching his partner's jaw work as he compulsively swallowed.

"Melly needs a family."

Brian was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was low and intent. "I'd do it, you know. For Angie. If she's her Guide, then Melly's as much my sister as Angie is. I'd do it. But I can't. Even if SELF helped out, I'm up to my eyeballs in debt from keeping Angie in this place. Nobody, even a judge in your back pocket, would give me custody. Not on top of having Angie. They barely let me keep her and she's my sister. They'd never give me an underage stranger."

"And she would need the formalized custody," Blair nodded. "She'd need someone who was her parent and friend and protector and guardian on paper as well as where it counts. She'd need the stability that the system doesn't provide but a legal document does."

"I know," Brian said. "I know. I've been around here so long, I've seen it in action. But they won't, not with me already being guardian to Angie…"

"I'll do it."

Brian looked at his partner with wide eyes. Henri stared back steadily. Both missed the small smile on Blair's face.

"Are you sure? I mean, I know you've been good to the kids here and you've really taken to Angie, but this…having a kid…" Brian ran out of words.

"Don't think of it like having a child," Blair interceded. "More like doing what Brian's been doing for years – being a big brother without any help from parents."

"Yeah, I know that," Henri said, never looking away from his partner. "And I can do it. The worst part about this whole gig was always the drive, you know? Commuting three hours to see Angie? That sucked. Being her brother and looking out for her? That wasn't the problem."

"You can't…this isn't like that time with the Harley!" Brian objected. "Melly – and Angie – are people! You can't take them on in a fit and get tired of them later on!"

"I won't," Henri said solidly. "I promise I won't."

"And he won't be alone," Blair added. "Melly would be up at SELF anyway. We haven't set up a schooling program yet, but Race and Benton home-schooled their kids for years and there's more than a few of the Sentinels or non-Sentinel family-members on-site who had some experience as teachers once upon a time. And we'd need to get it sorted out eventually anyway as soon as Benton starts looking for more kids like Angie. But, anyway, we'd all be in it together. Melly wouldn't be dependent only on Brown – she'd have you and me and Jim and the Quests and everybody."

"But she'd look to you first," Brian said. "And she'd need you the most."

"She'd look to you too, bro. And need you, too. You're her Sentinel's big brother. If Angie's like family to me now, Melly would be to you."

"Are you sure this is what you really want?" Blair asked, watching Henri very carefully.

The usually-jovial detective nodded solemnly. "Yeah, I am. This is what I gotta do. I know it."

"Good," Blair nodded also. "Because you're right."

"I am?"

"Yup," Blair bounced on the balls of his feet, smiling. "Can't explain it, but it's one of those Sixth things, I guess. Bai Ming told us that a Guide's power is to Know. And this time I Know that Melly belongs with you two just like Angie does."

"We're not gonna get a better endorsement than that, partner," Henri looked at Brian. "But it's your call. It started with you."

Brian suddenly smiled. "Never thought I'd be raising kids with you, Henny."

"Likewise," Henri grinned at Angie's name for him and slung an arm around his partner's shoulders. "But I think it's all Ellison's fault anyway. And Sandburg's. They started all this Sentinel stuff in the first place."

"Oh, absolutely, go ahead and blame me if it helps your egos," Blair shook his head smiling. Then he pulled out his phone and typed a message to Simon: _Better reserve a few more rooms – the family is getting bigger._

That done, Blair turned to head to the nurses' station and asked for a supervisor. Flashing his DHS badge, he politely requested that arrangements be made to contact Melissa Britton's caseworker, because he was about to put her in federal custody pending her adoption. Gobsmacked, the nurse on duty stared at him for a long moment before rushing to comply.

"You're both coming home with us, Angie and Melly," he said softly into thin air while he waited for someone to appear. "You're coming home and you're staying together and Rafe and Brown will look after you. And so will I. You're part of our family now, and the tribe takes care of its own."

Blair could _feel_ the rejoicing of the beaver and the little owl, could almost see them several walls away chasing one another around the ward's cafeteria heedless of the others trying to eat and delighting the two girls who laughed at something no one else could see. He didn't have to be a Sentinel to perceive the relief and hope that washed through the pair, both things that had been in short supply in their lives so far.

 _Those mountains better watch out_ , Blair thought. _Once we get you the right kind of support and family, nothing's going to keep you from helping each other get all the way to the top_.


	5. Guidelines

So, this one takes place within a few weeks of Kaimi's initial arrival. Which means, having read "Inevitability," you already know at least some of what will be uncovered about Ngama and Kaimi. But that's okay.

Also, I apologize to all physics in general, and physicists, and quantum particles. As Benton says, the thing with this stuff is you really can summarize and simplify it to the point of inaccuracy, but sometimes that's the only way to explain it. For the best resource ever on the metaphysics of quantum mechanics, I highly recommend the book Science of the Craft by William H. Keith. It's bent towards a Wiccan world perspective, but it will teach you more about how this stuff may actually work than any other source I've ever found.

On with the science!

Enjoy!

* * *

-==OOO==-

Guidelines

-==OOO==-

"I'm not so sure this is a good idea," Jim said warningly.

"Aw, come on, man! After all the years of me testing you, I'd have thought you'd be looking forward to the chance to get back at me," Blair grinned.

But Jim didn't rise to the bait. "This isn't a test, Darwin. This is an experiment."

"Not really," Hadji said. "If you wish to be technical, what we did the first time was an experiment. This is merely following in the path we have walked once before with greater confidence and preparedness."

"How can you be so calm?" Jim looked sharply at Jonny who was leaning easily against a mostly-buried table in Benton's lab. In spite of the fact that the lab was in a building of its own on the lodge's property about as far from any human habitation as it could get, even way out here the evidence of the many Sentinels who had come by for testing and training was spread everywhere and on every available surface.

Jonny shrugged. "One, 'cause calm or not, it's not like I've got any real right to say no. Two, 'cause this time I'll be here to help. And three, 'cause it's Hadji. He can handle it." He turned to his Guide, blue eyes meeting brown alight with trust.

"We do not intend to have either Blair nor Hadji actually exercise their…abilities," Benton said. "This is purely reconnaissance. And, perhaps, research."

"We need to understand how the Seventh works, Jim," Blair argued. "Right now, we've got a lot of theories and no facts. We need to get a handle on its basic parameters, on what makes it work. And maybe find a way to identify what makes Ivanna different from Hadji and me."

"And when we have learned that," Ngama spoke up, "we can determine the status of myself and Kaimi, as well as Angie and Melly."

"And all the other Sentinels," Blair added. "We have to know which Sentinels have a Seventh and we have to figure out how to find Guides with it, too, so we can start matching them up."

Jim looked around the room. Jonny was still looking confidently at his brother. Ivanna sat quietly, having opted not to voice an opinion on a matter in which she could not participate. Angie and Melly were leaning against one another taking in the discussion but not ready to comment; they were still rather new to all this, but as the only other Guide around, Melly had to be present and Angie wasn't about to leave her side. Race had agreed to hold down the fort back at the lodge with Jessie, but Rafe had decided to stay to watch over his sister and her Guide. Ngama and Kaimi were holding hands, and it didn't take Sentinel senses to note that both were tense, wondering what would be discovered and what it might mean for them.

"Come on, Jim," Blair urged. "We're just taking a little dip in the brain pool. You'll even be there to act as lifeguard if we start drowning."

"So what are you going to do – exactly?" He could feel his resolve weakening.

"We have some simple objectives," Hadji said. "First, Blair and I will attempt to reach the Seventh Door once more, this time with you and Jonny to anchor us. We will note how the experience differs from our previous attempt in the Arctic. Second, we will try to use the knowledge that opens to us once beyond it to assess Ivanna and compare her to Kaimi and Melly. Third, we will establish if we can see an echo of something similar in Ngama and Angie. If all that is successful, we may venture farther afield to analyze other Sentinels on site."

"Lastly," Benton added, "I will be monitoring both Jonny and Hadji on my equipment," he gestured around his lab. "I am already familiar with their brain activity in a variety of waking, sleeping, and meditating states, so I have a series of baselines against which to compare them."

"The joys of being a scientist's kid," Jonny rolled his eyes.

Benton smiled at his son. "I have also tested them both while Jonny practiced with his five enhanced Sentinel senses, which has given me a few avenues to pursue already. But this would be our first attempt with the more mysterious remaining two."

"If all goes as planned, we won't try to so much as push over a thimble," Blair said. "We're just getting in there and looking around."

Jim sighed. "Sandburg…"

"Look," Blair interrupted, his gaze hardening. "You can't actually prevent me from doing this. Aside from how it's _my_ brain and _my_ choice, this is what being a Guide is _for_. It's not my place to stop you being a Sentinel. You don't have say over this." His tone softened. "But you can opt not to participate. And I'll have to decide if I do it solo or if I just stay back and let Hadji try on his own."

"All right. Enough. I give up," Jim said with resignation. "If you're so set on doing this, you better believe I'm going with you. But I don't like it."

"Okay. Just sit tight a moment while I get Jonny and Hadji set up." Benton moved to where his sons sat in chairs side-by-side and started slipping crowns of diodes and monitors over their heads. Jonny grabbed Hadji's hand and squeezed it.

"I'm with you, my brother," he said very softly. "Don't try to go off on your own this time."

"I won't," Hadji promised. "Together there is nothing a united Sentinel and Guide cannot do."

"And that, Jim," Blair whispered, "is why they're stronger than us. Come on. You said it yourself. The water's fine. Stop holding us both back, for once."

Jim regarded his Guide seriously, then grabbed Blair and pulled him to his chest, holding him crushingly tightly. "I'm not trying to hold you back, Blair. I just don't want to lose you."

"Then you better learn how to follow me," Blair answered. "Come on." He pulled free and drew Jim down to sit beside him on the mat where they could meditate.

It took Jim far longer to drop off than the others, but before long the four of them emerged in the jungle. Without needing to exchange a word, they moved towards the Temple of Light.

"I never noticed before," Jim said as he stared up at the stone edifice, "but this one doesn't look like the one in Mexico."

"You're right," Blair bounced. "This one is for Sentinels as well as Guides. I have a whole theory about how the ancient people who built the one in Mexico knew all about Guides – they'd have to, to get it right – but they opted to leave most references to Guides out of the actual temple in an attempt to keep their enemies from learning the truth about Guides."

"Lecture later, professor," Jim smirked at his Guide, who seemed more vibrant and at ease here than he did in the real world, and given how cheerful Blair was back in Cascade, that was saying something. "Where to?"

"This way," Hadji said, leading the way into the Temple and down the corridor.

"I've been here," Jim said, "in a vision or a dream. I tried to get up the steps around that corner but I couldn't."

"I think a Sentinel without a Seventh won't be able to see the steps, but even one with the sense can't get through the Door," Blair offered. "It's…it's a Guide thing."

They rounded the corner and faced the Seven steps, wide enough for all four to walk abreast. As if drawn magnetically, the Sentinels reached for their Guides, clasping their hands tightly. Together, they started up the steps.

Jim remembered this. He remembered the last few steps being difficult, as though he were trying to walk against a current he couldn't feel. But with Blair holding onto him, the weight that he could oddly sense surrounding them all didn't seem to come to bear on his shoulders this time. Jonny didn't even appear to notice the pressure – he was more interested in watching each step light up as they touched it.

At the top, they paused.

"This is where we leave you," Hadji said softly. "You cannot join us beyond the Seventh Door, but if you remain here, we will not be lost there."

"Come back soon, okay?" Jonny asked, a strange fear seizing him. He knew, knew in a way that he didn't need to try to explain that Hadji's place was beyond that Door and his was to guard it, but he also knew that his Guide was not altogether safe there. However, he shifted aside to let Hadji pass him, only releasing his hand when the darkness of the Door swallowed it.

"It's okay, Jim," Blair said, meeting his Sentinel's eyes. "I'll be all right."

"I'll be right here," Jim said roughly.

"I know."

And Blair stepped through the arc into the dark.

"Can you see it?" Jonny asked, staring into the seamless void that had swallowed their Guides.

"No. Wait…" Jim opened his sight, cranking the dial almost all the way. "Yes. They're…in space? Something like that. It's all kind of distorted."

"We can hear you, you know," came Blair's voice. "We're no farther from you now than we were before. We're just…"

"We have stepped into a new plane of enlightenment," Hadji filled in the blank. "We have raised our awareness to a place beyond common consciousness."

"Thanks for the clarity," Jim grumbled.

"What do you see?" Jonny wanted to know.

"Close your eyes, Sentinel," Hadji said. "See not with your vision, but with your heart and our bond. You may not be able to join me here, but you should be able to share in what I can perceive."

Jonny shrugged but did as he was bid, letting the connection to his Guide draw him along as he would if it were Hadji's hand pulling him forward. "I…oh _wow_ …what…Hadj…"

"Come on, Jim," Blair teased. "Don't want to get shown up by a kid."

It took Jim longer once again, but he found that, the same way he knew how to search with his hearing for a particular sound, he could search with his mind for his Guide. And then they were together in the dark.

-==OOO==-

The four of them woke at almost the same moment, their eyes drifting open.

"Are you all right?" Benton leaned over his boys. "Did it work?"

"It did indeed," Hadji smiled. "Quite spectacularly, in fact."

"So, who wants the verdict?" Blair grinned, bouncing almost at once to his feet. The instant he was up, though, his head swam and he tipped a bit sideways. Before he could stumble, however, a strong arm reached up and seized his elbow, yanking him back to land on the mat in an uncoordinated heap, half leaning against Jim.

"You know better," his Sentinel growled.

"Yeah, I do. I know. But…man!" Blair grinned, his enthusiasm not dimmed one bit.

"Tell us what you have learned, and I will share my own observations," Benton said.

"Well, the big news is that both of you guys," Jonny pointed to Kaimi and Melly, "are full Guides with Seventh senses. And Ngama and Angie have that little whatever-it-is that gives them that, too. So you'll be like us when you're ready."

"When will that happen?" Melly wanted to know.

"When you bond with your Sentinel," Ivanna told her. "A very few spirits are wise enough to reach the Seventh without that connection, but it has been done."

Jim thought of Incacha and nodded.

"So a little while yet," Brian smiled at his girls. Angie was Ngama's age, but with Melly so much younger, they had some time to learn everything else before taking that step, as did Ngama and Kaimi. Plus, thus far no one really knew yet how to do it and no one wanted to encourage the route Blair and Jim and later Jonny and Hadji had taken. Even Ivanna had only the barest knowledge of the bond, that it was possible, but not how it was forged other than in a near-death experience. Apparently, with bonded Sentinels and Guides, their bonding was rather...private.

"In fact," Blair surged back into the conversation, "there are only a few Sentinels here at all that don't have the Seventh. And…I don't know how, but I wasn't surprised by any of them. I think it's something we can kind of tell by looking, even if I don't know how yet."

"You are correct," Ivanna nodded. "You will learn to perceive the light in others and then you will know."

"That's very good progress," Benton smiled. "Now, would you like to see my results?"

"Will we understand them?" Jim asked, finally getting to his feet and giving his Guide a hand.

"Maybe I'd better summarize first," Benton acknowledged, ignoring the sniggering that erupted.

"Based on previous observations as well as anecdotal evidence, I had surmised that that the Sixth and Seventh senses are, indeed, means of perception. However, they are unlike the five senses to which we are accustomed, some of us more than others," he smiled at Jonny.

"I'm going to have to simplify this almost to the point of inaccuracy, but I think you will forgive me. Now, you know that the matter in your bodies is formed out of particles, correct?"

"You mean the atoms that physically bond together?" Kaimi asked.

"Yes, precisely. And you know that there are sub-atomic particles involved which are so small and so complex that they may be understood as little points of energy rather than bits of matter, which are the root of the study of quantum mechanics?"

The others nodded and Benton took a deep breath.

"All right. In some interpretations of quantum mechanics, there is something which is called the 'observer effect.' This effect is shown when we measure a quantum system, that the act of our measuring it will, in fact, affect the end state of the system. To put it more simply, if I am looking out the window at a ball moving through the air, the act of my observing the ball may actually impact its trajectory. This, I believe, is what truly fuels the Seventh sense."

"You are implying that we, as observers," Hadji gestured to himself and Blair, "actually cause a change in the state of that which we observe and it is this ability that allows us to accomplish the acts we have witnessed?"

"Yes, but it's much more complicated than just that," Benton nodded. "There is also the role the Sentinel plays in it. Now, this is pure speculation – I don't have the equipment to measure this. But, there is also an aspect of quantum mechanics wherein particles change position instantly from one place to another. They must be going somewhere. I believe that is how the bond between Sentinel and Guide works on a physical level, and why it impacts the Seventh sense."

"So…the particles in my brain, in the course of being particles, flip in and out of existence," Jonny said slowly. "And when they flip out, they could actually be bouncing over to Hadji's brain and his are bouncing into mine. And that's where our connection comes from?"

"It is possible," Benton acknowledged. "There isn't a machine in the world that could show that, however. But we also know that entangled particles are dependent on one another, and the shape of one must necessarily define the shape of the other. So perhaps the existence of whatever it is that permits you to observe and thereby affect matter also binds the very particles of your bodies and minds together to make them interdependent."

"That's pretty wild, Doc," Jim said.

"Indeed. There has been speculation in the scientific community that the observer effect may be more powerful than we even realize, that certain constants such as matter and time _only_ exist because they are able to be perceived. So perhaps whatever it is that makes Guides special is that which allows creation to be observed, and therefore to exist."

"So, this room is here _because_ we can see it," Blair said. "And if nobody can see it, if no living thing can perceive it, maybe it isn't. And we, as Guides, can see other things. When we're beyond the Seventh Door, we can see the fabric of the universe. We really can. And that's why we can change it. Because our ability to perceive it has inherently given us the ability to change it when we're in that heightened state of awareness."

"It's all theory and hypothesis," Benton warned. "And the science itself is so complex it would take a lifetime for a far better physicist than I to unravel it all."

"Out of curiosity," Jim asked as he absorbed the rest of what had been said, "what did you find when you measured Jonny using the normal Sentinel senses? You didn't say before."

Benton smiled secretly. "Nothing I can yet prove, but there was a very provocative result that bears more testing."

"And what was that?" Blair wanted to know, ignoring Jonny's audible groan.

"In cases of _extremely_ faint sensory stimuli such as a single grain of salt in a portion of purified water, Jonny's brain did not register his perception of the salt with the nerve center that is normally used to process the input of taste. In fact, he used the same portion that was lit up just now. As if he were not tasting the salt but rather his mind was informed in some other way that salt ought to be there."

"So, perhaps," Ngama said after a moment's surprised silence, "it is not only that a Sentinel can perceive the world more closely, but, in fact, that a Sentinel has the capacity to recall the history of a bouncing particle, like a scent carried on the wind, but on the quantum level?"

"It is possible," Benton shrugged. "I have no way to prove it, and no way to test it. But it could explain a few things we could not explain before."

"So…we learned a new theory," Kaimi said. "But the reality is that the only thing we're sure of right now is who has a Seventh. Everything else is a lot of maybes and possiblys."

"That is how most quantum mechanics discussions go, yes." Benton smiled at her.

"No, not quite," Blair said, looking at Jim.

"Oh?" His Sentinel raised an eyebrow.

"We did learn who has a Seventh, and you and Jonny learned how to anchor us and how to see through the Seventh Door even if you can't go there yourselves, and now we know someday we'll be teaching it to Kaimi and Melly as well. But I think we're sure of one more thing now."

"What's that, Chief?"

"That the place outside space and time beyond the Door is truly where a Guide belongs," Blair answered. "And as long as you come with me, I won't be lost there."

"Then don't go there without us again," Jonny said to his brother, and though he smiled when he said it, his eyes were serious.

"Do not fear," Hadji told him with his own serene smile. "For if all is as it must be, in even the most cosmic sense, then all will be well. For we are never apart from you when we are everywhere at once."

"I'm way more confused than I was before," Rafe said, shaking his head.

"I think we all are," Blair laughed.

"No," Jim said quietly. "Not all of us."

And he smiled at his Guide and Blair knew everything was alright. Whatever else, Jim had seen, had sensed, had felt it. And he knew that where they belonged was here, together, in whatever part of reality or existence needed them both.

And as long as a Sentinel and a Guide faced it united, there was nothing they could not accomplish.


	6. Lists

Sorry this is so late! It was the first week back at rehearsal and I'm still getting back into the groove of music again. Luckily for me, anyway, this is a nice short one.

Enjoy!

* * *

-==OOO==-

Lists

-==OOO==-

 _Just because I have to be in this meeting does not mean I have to pay attention_ , Race thought with dire annoyance. It was a gathering of the full Sentinel Council to talk about security arrangements with the Department of Homeland Security. On the Sentinel side were Ivanna, Dmitri, Simon, Benton, Race, Blair, and, of course, Jim. On the DHS side was Agent Fritz (though Race privately put Fritz in the Sentinel camp because he was a good, loyal guy like that), the Secretary of the DHS, and the Deputy Secretary of the DHS.

They were holding the meeting at neutral territory, which was to say at a conference room in a hotel with the rest of Major Crimes, a few of the toughest Sentinels from SELF, a host of DHS agents, and the Chancery crew all spread around as an honor guard. Honestly, Race would have preferred to be with them rather than actually enduring this meeting, but he was a full member of the Council and his place was here.

But he had nothing to contribute to the budget argument, so he pulled out a notebook.

 _Let's see_ , he thought. _Which ones have I already done_?

He flipped past a few entries and landed on a page titled "Benton Quest's Versions of Fine" followed by a list.

#1 "Fine" as in "All is actually well and I have no concerns." Almost never used.  
#2 "Fine" as in "I don't want to talk about it."  
#3 "Fine" as in "My brain is so full of stuff I literally cannot string together any other words as a response to you at this time." Used often while working.  
#4 "Fine" as in "I can't tell if I'm injured or not, so we'll pretend I'm not."  
#5 "Fine" as in "I am grievously injured and maybe bleeding to death but I can't confirm it and I also have too much to be doing to think about it too hard."  
#6 "Fine" as in "I am _certain_ I am bleeding to death, but I'm busy so please don't worry about me." Used all too many times.  
#7 "Fine" as in "Jonny/Hadji/Jessie have been hurt/kidnapped and I am unharmed and I wish I were in their place instead."  
#8 "Fine" as in "I have an utterly crazy idea and I'm giving it a try now! Whee!"

Race hid a snort and turned the page. He had lists like this for many people – Jonny's different shorthand expressions (such as the infamous "NIFRJI: No input/followup required, just information" that he used when he wanted something without explaining why he wanted it), Jessie's particular ways of laughing, Blair's wide variety of smiles, etc. One of his favorite entries was for Hadji and his seemingly endless quotes and koans and sayings.

"How Hadji Uses His Words of Wisdom" contained:

#1 To convey meaningful and insightful information  
#2 As a means of verbally disarming an opponent (or friend)  
#3 As a conversational dismount to evade further conversation or redirect the topic away from himself or others  
#4 To confuse Jonny  
#5 To confuse me  
#6 To confuse himself?  
#7 To make it appear that he has agreed with whatever was said while actually quietly disagreeing entirely and preparing to take no notice of the difference (see Blair's use of "I hear that" for similar)  
#8 To talk himself or others into or out of something foolish by making it sound wise  
#9 To conceal the fact that he has no idea what is going on

Race nodded to himself and moved to a blank page. Time for a new list. At the top he wrote "The Many Glares of Jim Ellison and Their Meanings:"

#1 Die immediately, preferably in a fire  
#2 Die, but only after I have yelled at you until I'm blue in the face  
#3 I'd kill you if I could but I can't, and you can't stop me from wanting to  
#4 Used only for Sandburg, usually for doing something dangerous  
#5 Used only for Simon, usually for asking Sandburg to do something dangerous  
#6 I believe you are more stupid than my gym bag and I can't believe I have to listen to you prattle or deal with you in any capacity other than putting you in a small, sound-proof box where you belong  
#7 This is unexpected and therefore unpleasant and I demand it stop immediately  
#8 You have had a good idea and it is better than mine and I am not willing to show you any amount of approval because it will just encourage you (usually used on Sandburg)  
#9 I hate technology  
#10 I hate technology and I hate you at the moment for being superior to me with it (used on Sandburg and all members of the Quest family)  
#11 This food/smell/texture is disgusting and I am disgusted  
#12 This food/smell/texture was supposed to be disgusting but I am actually slightly pleased by it and refuse to acknowledge it to you  
#13 Paperwork  
#14 Paperwork when Blair isn't here to do it for me  
#15 Any insinuation that Blair Sandburg does paperwork better than me  
#16 My Guide is pleased with another Sentinel and how dare any other Sentinel impress my Guide  
#17 Your jokes at my expense are not funny  
#18 My jokes at your expense ARE funny and you should laugh  
#19 Someone has not brought me coffee  
#20 Someone has brought me the wrong coffee  
#21 Someone who brought me coffee moved one thing one inch on my desk and I am now peeved  
#22 You have insulted my truck  
#23 You have insulted my truck twice (any instances beyond that move to Glare #3)  
#24 I don't want to talk about it, whatever it is, and I don't care that you do  
#25 I am trapped in a meeting with the DHS and my partner will not stop talking and I do not want him to know I am proud that he commands the attention of everyone in the room with his intelligence

Race also happily drew little approximations of Jim's face beside each entry, adding flames, exclamation points, and horns as needed. He was just finishing up the last one when his phone pinged. He pulled it up to find a message from Jim across the room.

"You missed one. Add 'Race Bannon, I'm a freaking Sentinel and I can see what you're doing from here!' to your list."

Race grinned cheekily and proceeded to do just that, ignoring the increased glaring lobbed his way from the other end of the table except in order to capture it in his little illustrations.


	7. With Love

Hi all!

This isn't the happiest of oneshots, but I think it is necessary. Sometimes, the only way to move forward is to draw lines in the sand behind you and never look back.

(By the way, I don't mean to bash Naomi. I really don't. But even wonderful people may not be safe in every situation for everyone. And you gotta admit, Blair's not wrong about the risk she poses.)

Enjoy!

* * *

-==OOO==-

With Love

-==OOO==-

Blair was taking a walk.

The fact that it was below 50 degrees outside and periodically the clouds decided the time had come to spit on mankind had not dissuaded him. If nothing else, that was proof enough of his inner turmoil. No, not turmoil – not exactly. Disquiet, maybe.

Though he could have gotten in his car and driven up to SELF to have some time in the woods, Blair had opted instead to make for the waterfront. The long boardwalks along the ocean were deserted in the downright yucky weather, giving him an endless plain of water and wood and stormy sky and shuttered storefronts for company. He hunched into his jacket but didn't bother to pull up the hood. The spray of ocean and sometimes rain was a cool reminder that kept him from vanishing too far into his own head.

He'd been out there more than an hour when he heard a familiar footstep behind him. Blair didn't look up, didn't even wonder. In a way without words, he knew his Sentinel had come for him.

But Jim was patient and simply followed, keeping a few yards back from Blair as they moved over the wooden boardwalk, crisscrossing the same path Blair had trod twice already. This time, Blair's feet carried him out onto an empty pier. He leaned against the wet railings and stared at the ocean.

"It's my mom," he said softly.

Jim appeared at his side, resting his hands on the rough, peeling rail close enough that they could have bumped elbows with only a slight movement, but he let the space stand between them and said nothing.

"She hasn't called me since before that thing with Sunshine and Jaga and the Quests in Borneo. I got letters, of course. I always get letters. She knew I forgave her for the whole dissertation mess, but I think she was afraid to face it." He huffed a laugh. "She'll go where angels fear to tread, straight into the heart of an untamed jungle or a warzone or a third-world slum, and she'll never blink at the danger to herself. But recrimination? Shame? She's not so brave around them."

Jim nodded, waiting.

"In all her letters for more than a year, she wrote about how important trust is, and how it's something all three of us struggle with. You didn't trust me, even before everything fell apart, and when it did, you didn't believe me that I wasn't out to get you. And she didn't trust me to know what I needed and wanted. She thought I was starry-eyed at the allure of the forbidden – a cop's world – and that she knew best how to help me find my way. She also trusted the wrong person with the diss."

"What about you?" Jim asked quietly. "You said all three of us."

"Mom thinks I trust too much, too soon. She didn't know why I put my safety in your care, even after you turned on me. She forgave you, of course. She forgives everyone. But that doesn't mean she'll ever go back to someone who hurts her. 'Detach with love.' She forgives and moves on and nobody gets another chance. But me – I stayed with you. I stayed after getting hurt again and again. She couldn't understand that. Naomi is always running _to_ enlightenment and peace, but she's also always running _from_ pain."

"You trusted her, too," Jim said.

"Yeah, I did. And she made a mistake. It was why she was so scared she'd ruined everything forever. If it had been anyone else doing that to her, she'd have smiled, told them it was all right – and meant it – and left. Even me. If I did that to her, she'd forgive me and she'd love me in a theoretical 'love the whole of humanity' kind of way, but she'd never let me back in. She expected me to do that to her. For a long time, she didn't really believe that I hadn't."

"Why didn't you?" Jim asked, honestly curious. He'd had to learn to forgive and keep holding onto people – and it had been Blair who had taught him how – but he was more like Naomi this way. If Blair really _had_ betrayed him, nothing would have won his trust back.

"'Cause she's my mom, you know?" Blair shrugged. "She's all good intentions and mixed results. She throws herself into an undercover operation without a second thought even though she can't stand any part of it. She helps people out and they help her in return and she never realizes she's being taken advantage of until she can't ignore it anymore. She's smart about things like drugs and abuse and violence, but not about pain. She's like a ship on the sea. She avoids the storms because she doesn't want to tip over. She doesn't know how to right herself and bail out the water and stay afloat if she loses her way."

"You forgave her because you had to?"

"No, I forgave her because I wanted to. Because I wanted to spare her the pain of my refusal to forgive her. And because she's my mom. She loves me. She makes mistakes all the time, but she loves me."

"Chief," Jim took a deep breath. "You don't need to hang onto people just because they love you. There's lots of people who care about you that won't make so many mistakes."

"I know that. And if it were anybody else, even if I forgave them, I might pull a Naomi and keep them out for life rather than risk a repeat of everything. But…she's my mom." It started to rain and Blair was glad – it helped him pretend his face's wetness came from the sea and the sky instead of himself. "I don't even know why. I just…can't help it."

"Like you can't help but forgive me when I let you down," Jim said quietly.

"Kind of." Blair looked up at the darkening sky. "But with you, it's different. Forgiving you, continuing to love you, it's easy. It's right. It's what I want. You make mistakes and I just let them go. Or, I try to." He quirked a small smile. "Sometimes stuff lingers and we find it later."

"Like finding out about Sentinel sickness?"

"Yeah. But even then, I had already forgiven you. I just put away the pain until we had to bring it out and look at it again. It wasn't hard to keep being your partner in spite of those feelings. Maybe it's because I'm your Guide. Can you hate your leg if it misses a step and you bash your head on the ground? You feel the hurt and you pay for it, but you don't cut off your leg. You don't blame it for the pain. The pain is just a consequence of having an imperfect leg in an imperfect world."

"I'm still sorry, Blair," Jim said, roughly and gently at once. "For all of it."

"I know, man. I know." Blair still had not turned from his study of what was in front of him or above him. He dropped his eyes to the waves running under the pier. "We're fine, Jim. We've been fine for a long time. It's water under the bridge, man. Or the dock. Whatever."

Jim smiled at the attempt.

"But with mom…it's different. I forgave her. That's not the problem. She was easy to forgive for the past."

When he stopped, Jim spoke into the silence. "Why did she call, Chief?"

"She wants to come visit again. And I wouldn't mind seeing her if it was just us. If we met at a place far away from Cascade and she told me her stories and I let them fill me up and I could be myself and she would be Naomi and we wouldn't touch the ground that got torn up when she was here last."

"Why don't you just do that then?" Jim suggested.

Blair shook his head. "That's just avoidance. I have to decide – right now. Do I let her back into our lives here? I'm not talking about SELF and the Quests and all that stuff. It's much more immediate. Do I let her into the loft? Do I let her back into my life where I'm sure she can find a way to uproot something or make a mess again?"

He sighed.

"It's like…if I open the door of the loft, I'm opening a door inside, too. I'm giving her space to walk inside and kick something that hurts. She wouldn't mean to do it. It's just who she is. Her own special variant on the Sandburg Zone." He snorted. "Where I draw trouble and terrorists and criminals, mom runs into people's fears and secret aches and brings them to the surface. It's fine when you don't have something to lose from the experience – it can even be liberating."

"So if you actually let her back into your life, you're opening yourself up to her hurting you again," Jim finished.

"And not just me. You too. She hurt both of us. I forgave her, but I'm not eager to try it again."

"Sandburg, it won't happen that way again. We're…different. You know I wouldn't turn my back on you, no matter what your mom came up with to throw at us."

"I know. But that doesn't mean she can't hurt us."

Jim thought for a moment. "You said your mom is afraid of pain. But aren't you just doing the same thing? Trying to avoid your own pain?"

"Yeah, I guess I am," Blair nodded to himself. "If I let her in now, I'd be doing it for her sake, so she knows I really did forgive her and so everything could be all right between us again. But there'd always be a risk…"

"There is always a risk when other people get involved," Jim said. "It's up to you if it's a risk worth taking. Some are and some aren't. And it doesn't stay constant, either. What's untenable today might be easy tomorrow."

"Says the guy who knows about risk," Blair smiled grimly.

"Says the guy who learned about letting people in," Jim corrected. "So the question is whether or not you actually want a relationship with her."

"Of course I do," Blair said automatically. Then he sighed. "She talked about how you and she both broke my trust but I kept on trusting anyway and she admires that in me. She doesn't know that it isn't quite true anymore. I trust my mom to be herself. I trust her to mean well. I trust her to do what she thinks is right. I just don't know if I trust her with any part of me that bruises."

"All of you bruises, Blair," Jim said softly. "It's one of your biggest secrets. No matter how tough you seem or how many bad guys you snarl at or how many thuggy Sentinels you talk down, there's nothing in you that doesn't feel it all happen. Stuff looks like it bounces off, but it doesn't."

"No, it doesn't," Blair dropped his head, his hair hanging over his face in a thick, wet curtain. "I don't think it really just bounces off anybody. Some people just get good at hiding bruises from others, or maybe even themselves."

Jim longed to argue that point. He was fairly certain there were people in the world that didn't bruise so easily, so readily, and didn't care. That his Guide was unusual. But that argument was for another time. Instead, he listened to his partner's steady heartbeat and waited for him to go on.

"I can't help but forgive my mom. I can't help but want her in my life. But it isn't easy. She'll come in on a whirlwind and leave the same way, and she might not ever think too hard about the broken pieces I'm sweeping up. Not because she's callous. She's just…she doesn't let pain happen to her too often. She stays away from it. She's always left rather than pick up some frayed ends and try to stitch them back together."

Blair actually tipped his head a bit, not enough for one blue eye to pierce the curtain of his hair, but enough for Jim to know he was being considered. "You know, you're a lot like her that way."

"You think that's what I do? I leave instead of sticking it out and cleaning up my messes?" The questions weren't heated, but said softly.

"More that you pretend the whole thing never happened. At least, you used to. How long were we roommates before I ever even knew you had a brother, or a dad?"

Blair's head came back up and he shook back the wet curls to stare at the sea again. "We're all running from pain, Jim. We just do it differently. You pretend it never happened and bury it so far down you're almost right. Mom forgives and moves on and lets everything go like wind through the trees, and she never lets herself get snagged if she can help it."

"What do you do, then?"

"Me? I process. I meditate. I feel through it to some kind of meaning or lesson or ultimate truth of life and the cosmic experience or something."

"You also stay and fight," Jim said stubbornly. "You could have left me so many times. You could have taken the easy way out. You could have kept the diss public and reaped the rewards. But you didn't. You stuck it out, no matter what pain it brought you."

Blair shrugged. "I did what I thought was right."

"So what's right this time? What do you want to do about your mom?"

Blair was quiet for a long while. When he spoke, it was distant, the words coming from far away inside the vault of his soul.

"I love my mom. Not just because she's my mom, but because she's a good person and she does try her best. All her mistakes are out of love. Even if she weren't my mom, I'd want her in my life sometimes. I like when we tell stories, or when she forgets I'm not a little boy and tries to look out for me. I like being able to meditate with her and talk about what we see. I want all of that."

"But?" Jim urged.

"But it's not just me anymore, is it? I want to have my mom, but I can't risk bringing her in too close. A mistake made out of love can still be fatal. We both know that. And now there's a lot more lives riding on us. Maybe mom would think it was the right thing to do to start a Free The Sentinels campaign in China, but it would get people hurt. And there's absolutely no way she'd keep any of it a secret. She doesn't keep secrets."

"Do you really think she'd be in danger? Or maybe be dangerous to us herself?"

"Don't you?" Blair replied.

Jim couldn't argue that. If Naomi proved true to form even once, she might let the wrong information pass and there was no telling the results. They weren't playing the relatively small stakes of Blair's academic reputation and Jim's anonymity. Now they were caught up in a world of international politics and decades of secrecy and a supervillain all existing in a delicate balance. And even if SELF was strong and the Sentinels who had joined it were stronger, there were still a thousand ways it could all come crashing down – and the cost would be lives.

"But can't you have her, open that door, without letting her into all the secrets and SELF?" Jim asked.

Blair shook his head. "I don't know how. She found my dissertation on my computer because she was curious and she wanted to help. What if she followed one of us to the lodge just to see where we were going? What if somebody let something slip? What if she starts asking about my work? I can't tell her, Jim. I can tell her I'm still your partner, but all the DHS stuff and my SELF office – how do I keep it all from her?"

"We'll find a way, Chief. If that's what you want, we'll find a way."

"There is a way. It's just…hard."

Jim waited.

"I can let Naomi be my friend. I can meet her for coffee and meditate with her and tell stories with her. But I can't let her be my mom again. I can't open the door and let her into the loft – literally or figuratively. I can't let her influence leak into my life. I can't…let myself trust her to be my mom anymore. I have to let her go. For her safety, for ours, for SELF's. Detach with all the love in my heart for all our sakes."

"Detach with love," Jim repeated the phrase.

"But you know what's strange?" The rain had stopped again, and that was too bad because now the water dribbling down his face didn't have as easy an excuse.

"What?" Jim asked as gently as he could.

"Even if I can't let her be my mom, even if I can't let her into my life, even if I have to forgive her but not trust her…even then, I still want to be her son."

Jim felt his heart constrict at the deep ache in those words.

"She's my _mom_. And it doesn't matter that I'm way past the bedwetting stage. I still…I still want my mom. Even if I never trust her again. Isn't that crazy?"

"No, Blair. It isn't." And Jim broke the stalemate between them and wrapped his arms around his Guide and held him tightly.

The rain came and the sea moved and the winds blew gently against the pier and water fell between them. And only Jim knew, his Sentinel senses keener even than Blair's ability to tell the difference anymore, which drops of water were Blair's tears and which were nature's. So Jim held on, and Blair burrowed into the only permanence he had left, and they waited for the storm to pass.


	8. A Day in the Life

This is a nice long look at a lot of our characters and how they settle into the first winter at SELF with a full house of Sentinels. Unlike most of my oneshots which I write all in one sitting, this took me several days to piece together. Lots of different individuals needed some spotlight time!

Plus, I'm establishing some important groundwork for Arc 4. And, as usual, developing my own take on Sentinels and Guides and their dynamics.

Enjoy!

* * *

-==OOO==-

A Day In The Life

-==OOO==-

Blair's Saturday started all too early at the airport. In addition to the holiday traffic clogging the roads, even the little private airfield the Quests tended to prefer for the Dragonfly was busy. Blair huddled down in his coat and shivered.

"It could be worse," Jim told him with only a hint of a smile.

"Oh yeah?"

"It could be snowing."

Blair grumbled incoherently for a moment before sighing. "Actually, I kind of hope it does."

Jim looked at his I-hate-cold-more-than-anything-including-death partner. "Really?"

"Sure," Blair shrugged. "A white Christmas would mean a lot to the Sentinels who are used to that sort of thing. And I think the new arrivals who've never seen one before would like it, too."

Jim just shook his head. "Just make sure you're stocked up on coats and hot coffee, all right?"

"Not a problem, man." Then his head perked up. "Feel that?"

Jim smiled a little grimly. "Yep. Looks like a live one, Chief. You gonna go first?"

"Don't I usually?" Blair smiled, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. As he focused himself on the next few moments, he felt a buzz of power in the air, his Guide nature growing stronger as he drew it forth. A tiny trickle between the folds of awareness told him that somewhere – not that it mattered where – Hadji was probably conscious of the moment. Even more than half a year and there were certain ways in which they were still connected. But it was still fading, and it didn't bother either of them.

Particularly when it was useful. As now, when Hadji's calm was virtually contagious and Blair found himself relaxing.

 _Showtime_ , Blair thought to himself as the group appeared. Benton was in front, leading the eight new Sentinels through the customs checkpoint which, today, was manned by agents of the DHS. Doctor Quest looked exhausted and Blair didn't blame him. It was one thing for a group of Sentinels to defect on their own and arrange to arrive in Cascade or else to jump on the plane during a mass rescue. It was something else entirely to be contacted by a group desperate to escape the dictatorship of Belarus and have to assist in smuggling them out of the country. It had not been easy, and only the Quest name and reputation, and some very clever deal-making by other forces allied to SELF including the DHS, had gotten them out of the country at all.

Beside Benton walked a stately woman, her hair tightly braided in an elaborate plait. Blair had already spoken with her as well as the others while they had been on-board the Dragonfly, but it was different to see the Sentinel who had led her seven comrades to safety in person. Galina Yankova was tall and imposing, and even after three hellish days looked ready for a fight. A step in front of her was her spirit animal, a husky wild boar.

Blair breathed again, drawing more of Hadji's calm to himself before he stepped forward.

"Welcome," he said with a smile. "I am Doctor Blair Sandburg." He held out his hands and waited.

Galina examined him with sharp brown eyes which softened as her senses roved over the Guide. The ice in her expression thawed a bit and she replied in accented English. "It is good to meet you after all we have heard of your miracles, Professor Guide."

Blair shot a slightly annoyed look to Race, who had clearly shared the title or term of endearment or whatever it was that Dmitri and Ivan had started with the new Sentinels. Race shrugged tiredly before taking Benton by the arm and leading him away – the pair had done their part and now would retreat to get some rest and let the remaining work unfold on its own.

Before he could cross the distance between them, Blair sensed more than heard the growl from behind him as Jim stalked forward and interposed himself. "Jim Ellison," he grated.

Galina stopped and regarded him coldly. Blair was pretty sure anybody with ears should be able to hear the aggressive noises Jim's jaguar was making, and the boar was snarling right back. As a peacemaker by nature, Blair longed to ease the way, but he had learned that Sentinels tended to make their own rules about when they wanted peace made. And in this case, interference would just stretch out something that had to happen anyway.

Jim crossed his arms and his jaguar _screamed_.

Galina swore quietly and looked away.

Almost at once, Jim relaxed and stepped back, permitting Blair to move towards the Sentinel. _Stupid posturing hyper-protective throwbacks_ , Blair thought darkly. But he just shook his head and resumed smiling at the newest members of SELF.

"I'm sure you're exhausted, so we'll get you to the lodge and get you settled quickly. There will be a lot of people to meet, but they all understand what you've been through. We'll have you cozy in your beds in no time."

Which, in the end, did turn out to be at least mostly true. Still, first Blair was treated to a full Sentinel pecking-order display in the greatroom when the group arrived.

"Can you explain precisely what they are doing?" Hadji asked, sidling up to his fellow Guide.

Blair gestured for Hadji to follow and led the way up the stairs to the third level, which afforded them a view of the whole room. And of course he noticed Jim guarding the stairs as if at any moment an incensed Sentinel would race up there to do...something. _Who only knows_? Blair thought to himself, rolling his eyes. _The fact that Jonny's doing it too doesn't help much. Good thing Kaimi's out with Eric and Lai packing up at the Chancery or I'm sure Ngama would be just as weird_.

"You understand the underlying social dynamics, right?" Blair asked.

Hadji nodded. "Like any hierarchical pack animal, the Sentinels establish and maintain a strict social construct among themselves. Like when gorilla families merge, they must establish a new order and slot in the strange Sentinels against the existing structure."

"Right," Blair nodded, smiling. It was so _nice_ having people like Hadji and Benton around all the time now to discuss these types of things with him! "Well, Jim's the undisputed top dog, and Galina's already acknowledged that. So now it's just a matter of everybody else in the tribe sorting out who fits where."

"In wolf packs, would not such an experience involve a great deal of physical confrontation and dominance displays?" Hadji asked.

"And you _don't_ think that's what's going on down there?" Blair gestured. "Look how they're arranged. Jim's off to one side, 'cause nobody's going to challenge him for his spot at the top. Then you've got sort of a group of the secondary Sentinels, which includes Jonny and Dmitri and Hasna and one or two of the others. Galina's with them right now, and I'm pretty sure she's thinking about hauling off and punching Dmitri if he keeps looking so smug.

"Then we've got the tertiaries, which is Luka and Ngama and Emeline most of the older Sentinels who are strong where it counts. There's three of the Belorussian group and they've already had one fistfight and now they're in a world-class glare-off.

"Everybody else, which means Angie and the younger Sentinels from the original Soviet group and the rescued ones from the Arctic mission, are that big mob down there sorting into even smaller factions along lines even I don't totally get, and the four new ones are trying to navigate it. The only people left not participating are the other Guides and the kids, and we're not even sure yet whether the babies are full or partial Sentinels."

"Do you not think it is strange that there is such a strict hierarchy, but we have failed to name the roles?" Hadji asked.

"What do you mean?"

"If this were the military, we would have a general and a corporal and a captain and such," Hadji said. "In fact, most of the Sentinels are of one military structure or another. Why do they not employ such terms to make all this posturing slightly simpler?"

"Honestly, I think it's because it's not that clear-cut. Other than Jim, the whole thing is pretty fuzzy. Maybe we should start calling him Captain Sentinel or something."

From below, Jim's head snapped around and he levied a glare at his Guide that could melt the paint off a truck. Blair put up his hands in surrender, fighting a grin.

"You just wish not to be alone as 'Professor Guide' anymore," Hadji smiled.

"That too," Blair admitted.

"Looks like things are starting to fit together," Hadji nodded to where the worst churning of different Sentinels had slowed and now they were beginning to introduce themselves to the newcomers and make slightly less hostile gestures.

"That's my cue to go figure out the housing, then," Blair said, and headed off towards the stairs. He went straight to Galina and began speaking quickly, his hands flashing as he described the available options and how the rooms stacked against the complicated pack dynamics that had been determined.

Hadji followed him to the floor of the greatroom, but though he caught Jonny's eye and the wink that meant his brother was pleased with the outcome – which Hadji took to mean Jonny had somehow bested the Sentinel who was easily twice his age and experience – he did not join that part of the discussion. Instead, he headed to where Ivanna had appeared at the other end of the room.

"May I be of any assistance?" he asked politely.

Ivanna smiled at him. "If you have the time now, young eagle, it would do all well to become used to you and your spirit."

Hadji raised an eyebrow but said nothing. However, he did offer the woman an elbow, which she accepted with the grace of a queen.

Together, they moved into the crowd. It seemed every single Sentinel present turned to them to bid them good morning or inquire after their well-being, but Hadji quickly saw what else was occurring – the Sentinels were scenting them, perhaps not even consciously. While the Guides did not exist in the same sort of hierarchy among the Sentinels and operated quite independently, the Sentinels were attuned to them. Each of the new Sentinels regarded them with a mix of confusion and awe – Doctor Quest had reported that these Sentinels had heard rumors of the existence of Guides, but had never encountered one.

When the tribe began glaring at the new Sentinels upon their actually touching a Guide, Ivanna always had the same response ready.

"Now, children," she chided with an air of patient authority, "we are all one family. Play your petty games with one another if you wish, but _we_ shall not participate."

Hadji found it remarkable how Ivan the Terrible could command a room of more than a hundred Sentinels with a slight smile and sheer presence. It reminded him more than anything else of the matriarch of a large family. She may have possessed the influence to command, but she opted rather to encourage the crowd to command themselves.

When they had been noted and touched by all the Sentinels in the larger crowd, Hadji followed Ivanna's subtle urging towards the smaller groups Blair had singled out. Ngama, not often given to indulging his Sentinel territorial imperatives, actually interposed himself between the pair of Guides and the three newcomers until gently pressed aside by Ivanna.

"Thank you for your concern," she told him with genuine warmth. "You are a great honor to our tribe, Sentinel."

Ngama accepted the praise with surprise, and Hadji could see the impact of it in his eyes. For a young man whose very father had turned from him, respect and affection from Ivanna was like food to a starving man. Hadji winked very subtly at Ngama, earning a real smile, and the Sentinel then made introductions to their new friends.

As they approached the last group, Jim floated over as well, taking a hovering position just behind Blair's shoulder.

"Galina, this is Hadji," Blair said brightly as they approached. "He's Jonny's Guide. And this is Ivanna. She's a Guide to us all."

Galina looked sharply at Ivan, not quite sure how to take that introduction.

Ivanna had no doubts. She moved forward to seize Galina's hands in both of her own, releasing Hadji on the way. "Welcome, sister. The watch is shared with us all, and you are safe in our lands."

Galina's face cracked and the relief that leaked through her controlled coolness was intense. "I thank you for your kindness and your welcome."

To the side, Jonny had managed to sneak to his brother and was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him, leaning very slightly into Hadji's arm as if he could extend his claim on his brother by physically jamming them together.

"And thank you, Sentinel," Galina turned to Dmitri. "You would be within your rights to keep my people apart from your own."

"I would," Dmitri acknowledged with a tip of the head, "but we are one people."

"Are we?"

"Yes we are," Jim said firmly, his solid presence suddenly a lot more noticeable. "We all fit together and not by drawing the wrong kinds of lines between us."

Dmitri smiled at Jim with warmth. "Our Sentinel is wise, is he not?"

Galina's frosty expression thawed again and she smiled with more honesty than she had yet shown. "So it seems."

"Now," Ivan said, still holding onto Galina's hands. "Let us show you where the food awaits you. You all must be exhausted and hungry after your difficult trip. Once you have eaten, we will finish choosing your rooms."

"Hear that, you lot!" Dmitri raised his voice. "Stop pestering our new brothers and sisters and let them eat in peace."

The remaining new Sentinels made their way through the crowd to join the group of the highest ranked Sentinels, and Hadji noted that their faces had, in every case, at last started to soften out of the defensive stress of before. He missed a bit of the conversation as he watched the Sentinels gathering, but whatever was said made Dmitri laugh in his booming way, and they relaxed farther at his obvious comfort.

 _A matriarch and a patriarch indeed_ , Hadji thought fondly. _Ivanna and Dmitri may not be the true leaders of the tribe as Jim and Blair are, but that does not stop them from being mother and father to us all. And perhaps because of that, it sets the worried spirits of our newest members at ease. For authority is no longer concentrated, and respect is not synonymous with hierarchy. And kindness begins at every level, enforced not by regulation or rule, but by the good spirits of those who lead_.

As Ivanna and Dmitri began to lead Galina and the others away, Blair started to go after them. He was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Where are you going, partner?" Jim asked with a glint in his eye.

"Uh, to do my Guide thing?" Blair quirked an eyebrow. "Why? What should I be doing?"

"Let Ivan handle that. _You_ have a lesson today. Don't think I forgot."

Blair groaned. "Aw, come on. Really?"

"Yup. Move it." Jim's eyes fell on Jonny and Hadji. "You want a refresher?"

As one, they shook their heads. "Thanks, but no," Jonny said. "I don't like guns."

"They do not trouble me, but I believe my time would be better spent on other matters," Hadji answered smoothly.

Jim huffed. "All right. Get out of here. Daryl? You ready?"

Blair turned, not having realized that Daryl and Jessie had arrived after their own whirlwind of a morning back at Rainier. Jessie had stopped to talk to some of the dispersing Sentinels, so Daryl moved straight through the crowd to join Jim and Blair.

He looked up with a steady expression. "I'm ready."

"Good. Ngama? Grab your coat and let's get going."

The shiver that followed Daryl outside and along one of the slick paths had nothing to do with the coldness of the temperature. Marching beside Ngama, he did not look in either direction, keeping himself focused as Blair had taught him. Still, there was something ominous in the sound of the door unlocking.

Once inside, all four men removed their outerwear and Jim opened the cabinet at the other end of the room, handing around ear- and eye-protection. He waited to speak until all three were standing quietly. Even Blair wasn't bouncing for once.

"I know none of you want to have to do this, but you also know why it's important," Jim said. "I hope you'll never have to fire a gun. I really do. But, realistically, it'll happen sometime. Particularly if you're going into law enforcement," he looked at Daryl, "or if you're going on missions to rescue Sentinels from the bad spots of the world. I want you to have the knowledge so you can choose to use one or not," he looked to his own Guide and Ngama. "I'm not going to make you crack-shots today. I'm not even going to teach you to load a gun. For now, I just want you to start getting used to the idea of firing it."

"When do I get to teach you about fighting with improvised weaponry?" Blair asked, almost hiding his nervousness, but not quite, as he followed Jim into the shooting range.

"When the lessons starts and ends with something other than 'hit with whatever you pick up first,'" Jim smirked.

Daryl took one of the stalls and waited, knowing Jim would come with the gun for him to practice shooting. He stared down the long room at the paper target hanging at the end. _I can do this_ , he thought to himself. He was incredibly grateful that no one else was watching. If his father or Jessie or Race had been here, Daryl was certain he wouldn't have been able to keep from shaking. The fact that it was only Jim and two other people probably just about as nervous as he was made it easier somehow.

"Get your safety gear on." And then Jim was there beside him. "This is a little smaller than the standard firearm you'll get at the Academy someday," he said without preamble, "but it'll get you used to the idea and the kickback before we work our way up."

Daryl didn't know the name for the gun in his hands. Absently, he thought he should ask, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do it.

"It's okay," came Jim's voice. It wasn't particularly coaxing or comforting, but it was cool, professional, impersonal. Daryl found that helped – he didn't want to have Jim's sympathy right now. He wanted to get this done.

"Please show me," Daryl said, and his voice did not shake.

Jim helped him arrange his hands around the gun, and Daryl felt at once that it was both more and less comfortable than he had expected. _How can it feel like the most alien thing in the whole world to hold and yet seem to fit so well in my hands_?

He had a few minutes to get used to the sensation while Jim repeated the process with Blair and Ngama. And then it was time.

"Okay. Everybody ready? Ngama, turn your dials way down for a little while. When the light overhead goes green, take your first couple of shots."

Daryl had played paintball many times, had played arcade games and computer games, had horsed around with little plastic guns that fired darts and water and even ping-pong balls. But with a real, live gun in his hands, it wasn't anything like those had been. The emotional weight, the sheer feeling of mortality, was omnipresent.

Daryl fired.

He was startled at the recoil, but his stance caught most of the momentum and he managed not to hit himself in the nose.

Leveling the gun again, he fired a second round, controlling the recoil better. He tried just once more before the green light turned red. He set the gun down and pulled off his ear-covers so Jim wouldn't have to yell.

"Good start," Jim approved, walking along the three. "You've all got the steady hand and the respect for the weapon down. Now let's work on aim. I want you to focus on the target at the end. Empty your clips and see how well you can hit it."

Daryl felt his mouth, dry and strange, open to say something, but he couldn't think of any words that even made sense. Of course he needed to learn to do this. He was going to be a cop.

Jim glanced at him and then looked away but spoke quietly. "It's okay that you're uncomfortable. Even if you get comfortable holding a gun, you should never be comfortable planning to use it to hurt someone. You can't ever take it for granted."

Daryl nodded and turned back to his stall. The gun just sat there, cold and impersonal. And deadly.

 _But if it came down to it, if it came down to shooting somebody or letting someone get hurt, or not protecting someone, I have to shoot. I have to_. He thought of Jessie and knew he could never let her down. She needed someone strong to watch her back, strong enough to stand beside her.

Daryl put his ear-protection back on and waited for Jim's signal.

By the time Jim's lesson ended, his three students were sore and somber. They trudged back to the lodge quietly, each caught in his own thoughts. But before they got away from him, Jim steered them towards the cafeteria. It was late morning, not quite lunchtime, and the cafeteria was a mostly quiet place.

Mostly.

"Look who's here!" Joel smiled brightly.

Two little forms started to scuttle across the floor at speed.

"Incoming!" Blair laughed. He reached down and swept Yasmin off the ground as she reached his feet. "Hi little darling!"

JJ, though several weeks younger than Yasmin, moved almost as fast, and started to clamber up Jim's legs. She babbled cheerfully at him in her own little language, which Blair always found fascinating because both children spoke a language that seemed as if it should be real, complete with a stable vocabulary and structure, but the inflection and sound choices were entirely of their own creation. Blair and Benton were fascinated watching their development: the multilingual nature of SELF might lend itself to the girls growing up with more than just one way of speaking their minds.

Jim was less comfortable with the little one than Blair, but he didn't fail to lift her into his arms when she so clearly wanted him to. "Are you being good girls for Joel?" he asked.

"They always are," Joel said, his smile so filled with peace and joy. It had done wonders for the man to be surrounded not only by friends who had trusted him at last, or even the Sentinels who respected him, but also these little children whose innocence and simple happiness filled a hole in his heart that nothing else ever had.

Joel spotted Ngama and Daryl both looking a little uncomfortable and recalled how they had spent their morning. He moved to them and put an arm around each. "Come on. Luka's got the hot chocolate all warmed up already, and I know where he keeps his special stash of marshmallows."

"I'll go," Jim volunteered. "If you can figure out how to disconnect this strange extra appendage I appear to have picked up."

Joel laughed – JJ had wrapped herself completely around Jim's neck. "Fair enough."

Still, he got the boys settled at a table to one side before liberating the happily chattering child and freeing Jim to duck into the kitchen.

"He really does like them," Blair said, bouncing Yasmin like an old hand. "He just doesn't know what to do with them."

"Neither did I," Joel admitted.

"No way," Daryl shook his head. "You're some kind of expert baby whisperer."

Joel laughed. "Glad you think so, but no. Before these two, the closest thing I got to a baby was you, and you were a teenager." He turned to JJ, who had settled against his chest and was singing to herself. "It's just...easy somehow."

"It is because you love them," came a voice and Emeline entered. "They can feel it. They have no father, no family, but they have you."

"They have all of SELF," Blair said softly, nuzzling Yasmin's dark hair; she was strongly taking after her mother's Egyptian heritage. "They do have a family, Emeline. Just...not a traditional one."

"A traditional family is not always as valuable as one like this," Ngama said softly.

Joel saw the heavy shadows in the young man's eyes and understood. Emeline seemed to see it as well, for she stepped forward to scoop JJ into her arms and start noisily kissing her cheeks to make her giggle. Blair started talking to Daryl about Yasmin's unusual vocabulary as they tried to piece together what exactly she was saying with such conviction. Joel, in the meantime, settled into a chair beside Ngama.

"I hope you know," he said, "you can talk to me any time. You can talk to any of us."

"I know," Ngama nodded. "But what is there to be said? My father is not proud of me. He is ashamed. He may be forever ashamed, wishing I were not his son."

"Your father," Joel said with passion, "may be the most brilliant doctor in the world besides Benton, but he's an _idiot_. Anyone should be proud to call you their son."

And he wrapped his arms around the young man. Joel didn't care that Ngama was legally an adult and a capable Sentinel and a good student and carried himself with a wisdom that surpassed that of half the cadets Joel had ever worked with in his career. Ngama was also far from home and alone in a world that, while probably better suited to him than the one he had known, was still quite different and unexpected. Ngama might be on the cusp of manhood, but he was still a boy where it counted.

As proof, Ngama leaned his head on Joel's broad shoulder gratefully. "Thank you," he said very softly.

"Don't ever be ashamed to ask one of us to be here for you," Joel told him. "We'll never turn you away."

Joel didn't need to be a Sentinel to feel the hitch of breath and sense the quickly blinked-away tears. But he didn't remark on it and let Ngama slide back to himself with a composed shake.

An instant later, Jim returned with a tray bearing several cups of hot chocolate. He met Joel's eyes knowingly but didn't mention what he had, of course, overheard.

And then Joel was caught up in keeping Yasmin busy so Blair could drink his own hot chocolate in peace, and as he laughed with her and told her what a smart and brave and wonderful girl she was, he swore that Yasmin and JJ and even the older ones like Melly and Angie and Ngama and Kaimi and the rest of the Chancery group would never be without love and pride from himself at the very least. And if he ever caught any Sentinel or anyone else at SELF making the kids feel as badly as Ngama did, well, Sentinel or otherwise, Joel would not stand for it.

Then Blair decided to find out if Yasmin and JJ liked marshmallows, the little ones that had soaked up some hot cocoa but were held out in a spoon to cool first. Yasmin, it turned out, adored them and immediately adapted the word "mababalala" to demand more. JJ, on the other hand, spat hers out with an expression of betrayal which left everyone laughing.

This was the scene when Kaimi walked in. "Hi everybody!" She moved unerringly to Ngama's side, seeing from the very slight strain in his face that he was troubled, and she put her hands on his shoulder. "The Chancery's all moved out for winter break. Where did we all get so much stuff, anyway?"

"I'm mostly interested in how you and Lai have so much stuff," Daryl told her with a grin. "Eric and me have an excuse – we're local. You came here with just one giant duffel-bag. How can you have half a car of stuff now?"

"Clearly I needed some of the finer things in life," she teased back. "Not just every movie I've ever seen and kept in my bedroom forever."

"Hey, we've been watching those movies!" Daryl protested.

"And in some cases, I do not know why," Ngama pointed out.

While the others laughed, Emeline leaned to Kaimi. "Did you find all the supplies?"

"Yep! Should be interesting!" Kaimi smiled.

In a development that had surprised no one, Kaimi had settled into SELF as if raised there, immediately finding little places where her upbeat personality and her keen interest in caring for people was needed. She and Emeline had inadvertently become something of the morale officers for SELF, both arguing for the need for the people who had made the lodge their home to have more than endless days of sensory drills and lessons and the like.

However, they had quickly learned that certain tasks were not exactly well-suited to Sentinels.

Emeline had begun by founding a music program, as she had been fond of both singing and playing instruments before her senses had caused her to be committed to an institution. Unfortunately, Sentinel hearing did not get along well with those who attempted and failed to make music. Even the jovial Dmitri was forced to beg that only those Sentinels who had already mastered singing on pitch and with good tone remain in the chorus, and Jim banned any playing of the violin or flute by anyone who wasn't already practiced in the art, at least when he was around.

Next, they had tried knitting. The task itself had proved popular as well as familiar to most of the women. But, while it also gave those Sentinels who took up the hobby a more relaxing activity where they could also make use of their sense of touch to set each stitch with acute precision, it also meant the lodge had rather more scarves and hats and gloves and sweaters and afghans than they knew what to do with after a few months of concentrated knitting. Benton had donated two massive boxes of the leftovers to local homeless shelters, but it was still only a partial solution.

This time, Emeline and Kaimi thought they might have a winner. Benton had opened up one of the greenhouses that was not in use for plants yet and the pair had remade it into an art studio. With natural light when possible and many, many lamps whenever it wasn't, the open space was perfect for painting or drawing. And, of course, Sentinel sight and touch again came in handy. It was discovered that certain Sentinels could produce works so intricate, so fine, they were like tapestries of woven color and motion.

So Emeline and Kaimi had arranged for the winter holiday to be a time where any who wished could display their work, either with their name attached or anonymously, after which many of the paintings would be hung around the lodge. There was also a growing market for trading knitted goods for paintings or promises of future works, and Kaimi expected many Sentinels would be exchanging hand-made gifts when they celebrated the holiday.

The lights of the room flickered in a rapid pattern, which echoed the sounds of a chime. Luka strode out from the kitchen and crossed his arms.

"This is no longer a café. If you wish to remain, you will help the others set out lunch."

"Uh, anybody remember what happened last time Jim helped set out lunch?" Blair grinned at his partner.

Luka scowled. "I amend my previous request. If any but Jim wish to remain, they will help set out lunch. You, Sentinel," he pointed with a long-handled fork, "will remove yourself before you disrupt my work."

"I must have missed that one," Daryl tipped his head.

"Jim was _very_ helpful," Kaimi was fighting a laugh, "but he sort of held up the line trying to get everything _just right_."

"You didn't," Joel looked disparagingly at his friend.

"I plead the fifth," Jim said with as much dignity as he could manage with the others giggling in his face. But he did rise from his place and abandon the room. All but Ngama followed – Ngama had volunteered to help in the kitchen one weekend a month when his schedule permitted. He soon found himself with his hands filled with heavy platters of steaming hot casseroles.

Out in the greatroom, Jessie waved them over to the big whiteboard that had taken over one whole wall. Originally it had been used to track classes and activities – as well as chores – throughout the lodge. However, sometime over the summer the board had taken on another role until everything written on it was nearly illegible from the multitude of tiny things crammed into too-small boxes. Jonny had forgotten to sleep one weekend and had programmed a basic scheduling system for SELF not unlike what the Rainier registrar used – this was displayed nearby on a computer panel and screen embedded in the wall that scrolled past the items of the day and week with reminders of upcoming events.

So the whiteboard had become purely dedicated to the ongoing argument that had, so far, defined several nights of fervent discussion: Which Sport Will Be On The Big TV Today?

It was an inevitable state of affairs that, with so many Sentinels from around the world, there would be a multitude of arguments about the giant greatroom TV and what it would display when. Every private room or suite or little bungalow had a TV, of course, and there were others throughout the lodge in other little spaces as well. But the huge screen was the place to be for the big sports that generated a crowd.

Jessie pulled a little against the wall, forcing the wheeled steps on which she perched a bit more to the left. One whole forearm was smeared with the ink of erasing whiteboard marker, and she had a piece of paper taped to her knee where she could glance at it.

"How exactly did you end up with this job?" Jim asked, watching her.

Jessie wrote one more word before pausing and looking down at her audience. Emeline and Joel had wandered off with the little ones, so she didn't worry about encouraging toddlers to try ladder-climbing before they'd mastered walking. "Combination of factors," she said, shrugging. "Nobody else wanted to."

"That's not quite true," Daryl said. "We had lots of volunteers, but they all had an existing bias. During the Epic Fall Meltdown, we held a vote and Jessie won."

"Don't remind me," Jessie groaned. "I actually thought there were going to be duels out in the garden over that one game."

Jim and Blair both coughed suddenly. In point of fact, there _had_ been a duel. But nobody had thought the kids should know that there were a few adults at SELF who had all the impulse control of a brainless sparrow.

The problem was that there was only one TV of this colossal size, more than a hundred regular inhabitants and visitors to the lodge, and amidst them, multiple competing sports loyalties that bordered on religious devotion. And it didn't help that almost all the sports had seasons that overlapped. Hockey, rugby, and American football started around the same time in the fall. Association and league football (what the Americans called soccer) depended on the region – some of it was in the summer, some in the fall, some in the spring, some in the heart of winter. Tennis and ping-pong were year-round. And then there were other things – racing, extreme sports, and things that weren't quite so worldwide like cricket, golf, basketball, and baseball – that varied wildly and unpredictably. The day in October when Jim and Blair and the rest of Major Crimes had wanted to watch the Cascade Jags play but found they were outvoted by the conclave of Russians who were invested in a particular hockey game, who were then outvoted by an even larger group who wanted to watch a UEFA football match had nearly resulted in bloodshed.

( _Had_ , in point of fact, resulted in a little bloodshed, but again, the adults all agreed the kids didn't need to know that the friendly brawling had resulted in a ferocious match in the boxing ring.)

"But, I thought you liked basketball?" Blair asked, watching Jessie carefully delineate which games would be televised at what time and how the rotation for fair use of the big TV was being allocated.

"I do," she said. "But the thing is that I like all of it."

"She's not kidding," Race appeared. "Name the sport and she's got a favorite team, a favorite player, and can rattle off whatever stats you want."

"Favorite football team," Jim challenged.

"American? I like college football best, so Ohio State. If you mean _football_ , as in soccer, though, I'm a Man United girl all the way."

"Hockey?" Kaimi asked.

"Buffalo Sabres."

"Rugby?" Blair challenged.

"New Zealand All Blacks, of course!"

"If you don't say Cascade Jaguars for basketball, you're walking back to the Chancery," Daryl threatened.

Jessie laughed. "Obviously!"

"That," Dmitri appeared, "is why we entrust this to her. She likes all equally, so she treats all fairly. And she ensures that games that are of particular interest to someone are recorded and available to be played later."

"Plus," Jessie finished off the last note and clambered down the ladder, "it actually helps out in other ways, too. When you know what sport will be on when, you can figure out your chores or classes and not get caught missing the game of the season or something. And we've all started eating together when we watch, so that opens up the cafeteria when it might otherwise get crowded."

"Didn't think we'd be seeing you until tomorrow," Jim looked at Race. In point of fact, the bodyguard still looked like he could use another day or two of sleep.

"Yeah, but there's some kind of high society function in town tonight that Benton needs to appear at, so I figured I should get up now or risk sleeping through it." He smiled ruefully. "The burden of being famous and rich is sometimes you have to show it off. It'll help him negotiate with the university and a handful of others if he's seen to be an active force in Cascade business politics."

"You have my sympathy," Jim said sincerely. He'd avoided becoming his father's heir, barely, and never regretted not being present for those long, dull evenings of finery and concealed competition.

"Oh! That reminds me!" Blair turned towards the stairs. "There was something in my email from Rainier but I didn't read anything other than the subject lines this morning. I should do that. Somebody save me some lunch, okay?"

Daryl agreed to stock up for him and edged into the cafeteria as the second chime sounded alerting the population of the lodge that lunch had been served. Within moments the area was swamped with Sentinels coming from all directions. Jessie darted ahead of the crush and caught up to Daryl in time to grab a plate for herself and help him navigate his and Blair's along the line of food on offer.

Blair hadn't come back downstairs by the time Jessie and Daryl were getting settled on the floor beside one of the couches so Jim opted to take his plate to him and headed upstairs. Ngama, done with his kitchen duties, turned up with Kaimi, and Jonny wandered over as well. They all clustered together, leaving most of the couches and chairs for others.

It always made Jessie smile a little bit. Technically, while she and Daryl didn't have any kind of standing in the Sentinel hierarchy, Jonny and Ngama and Kaimi had enough that they could have their pick of the seating and no one would so much as grumble. But they were also young and often busy as well, and so they left the best seats to those who would have been uncomfortable on the floor.

"What's on today, Ace?" Jonny asked, not even bothering to glance at the board when he knew she could rattle it off just as easily.

"First is a winter sports qualification for the Olympics," she answered. "Skiing, snowboarding, things like that. Then, in a little while, we'll have a big Original Six game – Maple Leafs versus Rangers. One nice thing about being on the West Coast is that we get the game way earlier, so it should be over by the time the Jags come on tonight."

Jonny shook his head and smiled. He liked watching sports okay, but he wasn't nearly as fulfilled by it as Jessie. She had been known to block off an entire day to camp out in front of the television with the variety of athletic competitions on offer, from morning until after midnight, and afterwards she was as relaxed and contented as if she had taken a vacation.

"Sounds good to me," Daryl said. Jessie smiled at him. _Good thing for me I've got a boyfriend who has learned to watch sports with me_!

Normally she would have to think about homework, but classes were over and their last papers had been submitted the day before. Now they were free with winter break to relax, and this was how Jessie intended to start.

Other Sentinels – their sports-watching buddies who were starting to form into a real group of friends in spite of their different countries of origin, ages, and Sentinel/Guide/not either status – began to settle around them. Meilin appeared with a huge bottle of homemade apple cider from the fall, and Antonio was becoming famous for his game-day treats. Jessie had also baked brownies during the morning, which she ran off to get during the first commercial break.

And the afternoon slipped away, lost in a haze of good-natured cheering and teasing and booing. When the Swedish moguls skier fell, everyone worried until he got up. When the German downhill racer started beating the Latvian underdog, the entire room started cheering against him, Melly showing up just long enough to chuck her hat at the screen and yell before stomping off to giggle. And during the hockey, those like Kaimi and Daryl who were less familiar with the sport got fifteen different perspectives on the rules or the plays from everyone else. Jessie got into a hot debate with Dmitri, himself a huge hockey fan, about a particular Russian player and whether or not he should be rotated to the second line. They lost themselves there for a while, muting or talking over commercials when not outright mocking them, telling stories of sports they played or games they had seen, sharing snacks and swapping bets. Daryl ended the hockey game owing two shifts of filing duty to Jonny for picking the wrong skiers, but he was ahead three days of Chancery chores against Kaimi for correctly guessing the hockey score.

As the Jags came on and many of the Sentinels wandered off – particularly those from Russia had yet to acquire an appreciation for basketball – Jessie leaned against her floor pillow and sighed happily.

"Good day?" Daryl asked her, slipping his hand into hers.

"Perfect," she smiled. "Just what we needed after that term."

Suddenly Kaimi looked around. "Jonny? Where's Hadji? I don't think I've seen him at all today."

"He was here this morning to meet the new Sentinels," Jonny answered. Then he frowned. "He said he had something to finish up for Rainier, but that's the last I heard of him."

"Isn't he here?" Jessie asked.

"No," Jonny shook his head. "I mean, he was. But…" He took on the slightly faraway look of a Sentinel stretching his senses. "I guess he must have taken the car and gone back?"

Jessie watched the emotions flit across Jonny's face. She'd known him too long for him to be able to hide anything from her. He was confused – not upset. If he'd had a bad feeling, either a gut reaction or something from his Sixth or Seventh, he wouldn't be so calm. And it was possible Hadji could be in trouble without Jonny knowing about it, but Jessie doubted it. In the months since his bout with Sentinel sickness, they had been closer than ever. There was just no way he wouldn't be able to tell, somehow, that his Guide needed him.

But Jonny was unsettled, so Jessie got a foot under her and stood. "Come on. Let's give him a call and find out what's up."

"Hold on," came Jim's voice.

Jessie turned, cognizant that someone had muted the TV and all the gathered Sentinels were watching as well. _I guess I shouldn't be surprised. They all protect Guides like they were their own. And we've only got five, so_ …

Jim was striding across the greatroom, Blair at his heels. "Hadji's fine, Jonny."

"Where is he? How do you know?" Jonny asked.

"Your Guide is as sneaky as mine, kid," Jim said with a fond grimace.

"Hey, I can't blame the guy," Blair said, shaking his head. "It's not in Hadji's nature to want to make his stuff public. Good or bad, he keeps it inside."

"Yeah, he does," Jessie said. "So why don't you tell us what he isn't sharing this time?"

"First, do you know where that thing Benton is at tonight is being held?"

Dmitri stood. "I do. Doctor Quest would never leave us without knowing his location."

"Good," Jim smiled. "Because we're going to go get him first."

Jonny and Jessie both stared at him and wondered if they should be alarmed.

Halfway across Cascade, Benton leaned to Race as though giving instructions or whispering a confidence.

"What does it say about me that I am wishing for some excitement?" he asked softly.

Race fought not to laugh, keeping his expression still. "It says you've been spending too long living on the edge and now the straight and narrow has become boring."

Benton glared mildly at him. "Don't kid yourself. You're right there with me."

"Sure, Doc," Race smiled. "But to be fair, I've _always_ thought this stuff was boring."

Benton laughed, tipping his head back and not caring if anybody thought his display was unseemly. This was exactly the sort of function Race had despised from the day he'd been assigned as a bodyguard, long before they'd cut ties with the government, before even they had become true friends. Of course, in those days, Race had sometimes been present not just to watch over Benton but to keep Jonny and later Hadji out of trouble as well. The boys had spent their share of time under tables and in coat rooms trying to entertain themselves – as often as not, their diversions had been better than whatever Benton was enduring.

"Battle stations," Race said very softly, drawing Benton back to the present.

He looked up to see a man he knew more by association and newspaper articles than anything else approaching. He looked slyly at Race but schooled his expression into something approaching professional.

"Doctor Quest, I am so pleased you could join us at the gala this evening," the man smiled, extending a hand. "I am William Ellison. I know you by reputation, of course."

"Mister Ellison," Benton shook his hand and smiled. "It's a pleasure. May I present Race Bannon, my long-time friend and associate?"

Race pumped the hand he was offered, and only his best friend knew the twinkle in his eye was Race wishing he had not been 'presented.' Then he could have ignored them and acted the part of the tough bodyguard instead of the polite 'associate.'

"Good to meet you," William said. "This is my son, Steven."

More handshakes all around, and Benton kept himself focused on the task at hand rather than letting the fact that Race appeared to be rapidly developing a case of the secret giggles distract him. Race Bannon was the only person who could get Benton to laugh no matter what, and usually it was something in his face that clearly said "I am laughing myself sick on the inside, and nobody will ever know it but you, and even you don't know why, but be sure I will tell you about it later."

"Ellison," Race said slowly, thoughtfully. "Are you related to the detective Jim Ellison?"

"Yes, he's my other son," William answered.

Race glanced at Benton. They had known that, of course, but they had been curious if the man would claim his son. Benton was starting to wish he'd talked to Jim about how he wanted his father handled. Now they'd have to wing it.

"We've interacted with him several times in an official capacity," Race said smoothly. "He's an exemplary officer."

Steven smiled, politely, but with warmth. "Yes, he is. We're very proud of him."

William Ellison shot the slightest look to Steven, and Benton felt his own smile cool. Steven might be proud, but clearly his father's opinion was one he was not willing to share in its entirety in company.

"I understand your own son is now attending Rainier?" William shifted the topic handily.

"Yes," Benton acknowledged, hating that he wasn't claiming Hadji as well. The boy was known for his association with the family, but it had always been prudent to keep his identity as son rather than an assistant or even servant (as some people assumed) secret for his own safety. "It's an excellent university. I've been very pleased to contribute financially to the institution."

"Yes, I had heard of your generosity," William said. "It came as something of a surprise to me, as did your founding of that new organization – something about sensory evaluation? I thought you were only interested in consulting?"

Benton shifted minutely – but it was enough to signal to Race that he was starting to feel trapped. "I have always dedicated my interest and my resources to causes as time permits. While I am still consulting on an as-needed basis for the federal government and a few other entities, I find that Jonny's presence in Cascade has made putting down a few roots here more attractive."

"Gotta have something to do while we're in town," Race said smoothly. "I understand you've done some consulting yourself, Mister Ellison? Both of you?"

"I'm on the board of several large corporations," William said with a lofty air. "And I am in the process of bringing my son up to speed to step into my place. Keep things in the family."

Benton and Race had played this game too many times in the last decade, and with some better players, not to see William Ellison starting to angle towards an opportunity to ask Benton for something – be it to consult officially, to "offer some advice," or even to join his company. Neither was particularly uncomfortable with the request – it was the question of what wasn't being said that had Benton on edge. He didn't mind talking about SELF to the right people, but he didn't yet know enough about William or Steven Ellison to know if they were the right people. And, tellingly, Jim hadn't indicated one way or another.

But they were saved by an unexpected interruption. "Speaking of family," Race looked up.

Jim Ellison himself was making his way through the crowd, standing out not only by his natural height but by his casual attire in a sea of tuxedos. The tall detective did not hesitate even when his eyes fell on his father and brother, but his face twisted very slightly.

"Jim?" Steven turned, clearly surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm not here to socialize," he answered bluntly, but not coldly. In fact, he smiled at his brother. "Another time, maybe."

"Jimmy, it's good to see you," William said honestly, but his smile was short-lived. "If you'd wanted an invitation, you only needed to say something."

"Thanks dad, but I'm not here to stay." He turned to Benton and Race and frowned. "What's the point in having super advanced cell phone technology if you turn them off?"

"Not off," Race shook his head automatically. "Just muted for anything short of an emergency signal."

"Right," Jim rolled his eyes. "Which is why you ignored the message Blair sent you."

Steven spoke up. "Blair? Blair Sandburg? You guys are friends with Blair too?"

Jim looked at his brother and shrugged. "We're all friends."

"I thought you'd met 'professionally,'" William said shrewdly.

"You guys dance any longer, I'm going to go on without you," Jim said, suddenly comfortable as the dynamics at play were revealed to him. The four men before him all found other places to look and he chuckled. "Okay, guys. Short version – Benton and Race are friends with me and Blair. Dad, Stevie, there's stuff they can't tell you about, but it's okay. I'm fine with it."

"Seems we should have a conversation somewhere a little quieter sometime," William looked at Benton.

But Benton was not so easily won. "Maybe," he said lightly. _Even if your son has told you the truth about being a Sentinel, and even if your concern about SELF and my work here was to protect him, you're too well-connected and too public for me to let you too close. And Jim knows that_.

"So what's so all-fired important you crashed the Cascade Society for…Whatever It Is Gala?" Race asked, happily dropping any pretense at being interested in the evening's event.

"Somebody's been keeping secrets, Benton," Jim looked at him. "You want to be there when we point out how well that works around us. Trust me."

Race groaned. "It's not mine, is it?"

"Nope," Jim shook his head. "It's Hadji."

"Hadji? Keeping secrets?" Race's face was wide in false astonishment. "I'm _so_ surprised! The only person I've ever met more taciturn than that kid is _you_ , Jim."

Jim laughed. "Well, he got me this time, but Sandburg ferreted it out. And the big reveal is soon. You won't want to miss it."

"Good enough for me," Benton nodded. He turned back to Jim's family. "You'll have to excuse us."

"Go on," Steven said. "We'll make your apologies."

"But, Doctor Quest," William pressed, "I still think we should talk."

Benton looked at Race and Jim who both shrugged. He smiled. "I'm sure we'll meet again. I look forward to it. Have a good night."

In the lobby, Jim smirked at Benton. "You were pretty cold to my dad, Benton."

"Should I have been otherwise?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"No. Dad's…he's a good businessman. And he tries to do what he thinks is best. But…"

"Let me guess," Race interrupted. "He's not the world's biggest fan of your partner, or of what any of that means."

"Got it in one, Bannon."

"I hope you won't take it personally if I don't leap into whatever machinations your father is preparing, whether business or in some attempt to protect your secret," Benton said. "But…"

"Don't sweat it. If it's a problem, I'll talk to him. Or Stevie will. You could talk to my brother if you wanted, but...well. Anything you say to Steven gets back to my old man eventually." Jim sighed. "I try to visit them sometimes now. Sandburg's doing. But I can't _really_ talk to them. Not about…you know."

"Seems to be a common affliction," Race commented, catching sight of one of the unmarked SELF cars marked alongside their own, with Jonny in the passenger seat and Daryl, Jessie, and Ngama stuffed in the back.

"I hope you don't mind too much that I crashed the big party," Jim said with a wry smile as he opened the door.

"If you hadn't, I was going to need to call down a tactical exercise or something to stay awake," Race laughed. He tapped on the window next to Daryl. "Going my way?"

"Race! Dad! Did you know?" Jonny asked.

"Know what?" Benton asked.

"Clearly not," Ngama said with a smile of his own. "Honestly, I believe we are spoiling all that he has done to ensure this was not the result of his efforts."

"Maybe," Jessie said thoughtfully. "But, on the other hand, it's a really big deal. It really is. And if we don't celebrate it, maybe he won't realize how big a deal it is. Hadji never sees himself as particularly special. Our job is to remind him that he is."

"Exactly," Jonny nodded with a grin.

And so it was that, two hours later, when Hadji returned with Blair to the lodge after an impromptu philosophical discussion on the merit of reticence, he was met with a crowd of friends as well as most of the Sentinels of SELF cheering.

Because Angie and Melly in particular were fond of decorations, the greatroom had been strewn with streamers and a few balloons and a hastily-taped-together banner that read in big orange letters "Congratulations Guide Hadji, BA in Anthropology!"

"I...what...how...?"

"Hadji, you are the only guy I know who would _accidentally_ graduate from university and _not_ _tell anybody_!" Jonny cried out, catching his Guide in a laughing hug.

Hadji shook him self and glared at Blair. "You arranged this."

"I got an email from Eli Stoddard today," Blair explained. "He was just going over your transcript and realized that you had already amassed enough credits for your full degree as long as you had completed a final thesis. He wanted my opinion on that paper you did for me last spring as a special project and whether it should count. And I said it should."

"That is why he called me to his office in the afternoon for an interview with the registrar confirming the same," Hadji said, still blinking in surprise. "I...you wished to celebrate that I have completed my degree?"

"Just your first one," Jessie appeared. "We all know you'll probably get at least two more before Jonny and I get our first one."

"You broke Sandburg's record kid," Jim smiled. "A full bachelor's degree in just one year? Even your dad was impressed."

And Jonny finally released Hadji to face the man who had taken him in and given him a home. Benton's eyes were suspiciously wet as he gazed at his boys – his sons – united and bound in ways he could never have imagined.

"Hadji, I am so, so proud of you," Benton said. "And perhaps a bit surprised that none of us knew you were so close. But not _that_ surprised, my son. After all, I know how many credits of yours I have authorized over the years."

"Doctor Quest," Hadji said. Then he stopped and, heedless of the dozens of eyes and ears turned on him, used the familiar word that was normally never uttered but in privacy, "Father. I...I did not mean for my degree to be in Blair's field, but one of your own. I am at a loss to explain how it happened. This was why I did not share my news. I wished to answer your dedication to my education with a more appropriate field and..."

Benton laughed brightly and threw his arms around his son. "You have already surpassed any path I could ask you to follow of mine, Hadji. Now you must become whatever it is that your heart demands. I could not be prouder of you."

And throughout the crowd, similar hugs were taking place. Joel found his way to Ngama and got him under one arm and Kaimi under the other. The rest of Major Crimes had appeared, so Simon was there to pat his own son on the shoulder while Henri and Brian fondly hugged Melly and Angie. Eric and Lai had their arms around one another and Jonny while Jessie leaned happily against Race.

Suddenly another voice spoke. "The awarding of such a degree is a very high honor," Ivanna said, moving forward at a stately pace while the crowd parted for her.

Hadji turned in his father's grip to acknowledge her politely, but Benton kept right on hugging his son.

"Thank you, Ivanna," Hadji said politely.

"You have many years of study and work yet before you shall reach the scholarship of our own Professor Guide," she nodded to Blair who grinned cheekily. "But perhaps it is time we give you a proper title of your own."

Hadji opened his mouth to argue but was stopped by a squeeze from his father and a multitude of nodding heads.

"Where many of us come from, there is a position that is lower than that of a professor but above that of an assistant. This is where you stand for now, young eagle. So, just as we revere our Professor Guide Blair, now too we are blessed with you, Docent Guide Hadji."

This was met with a cheer.

The surprise gathering quickly degenerated into a full party, with music and some cobbled-together snacks and treats. Hadji was greeted by seemingly everyone, but he stayed closest to Jonny, whose smile held up his modest brother when he would have been overwhelmed by the pride and support. But when everyone had been by, the Chancery group took themselves off to a corner to celebrate together, cheerfully berating the only one of their number who could graduate without telling anyone about it and come back for more.

Blair sidled up to Jim.

"Thanks for helping organize all this. He deserves it."

"You know?" Jim smiled at his own Guide. "I think we all do. We all deserve to get celebrated once in a while. We're all remarkable. Except maybe Brown over there," he gestured to where Henri was showing off outrageously for Angie and Melly.

"You're right," Blair grinned back. "And today's as good a day as any to remember it." He held out the bottle of beer he had acquired for himself. "A toast."

"To what?" Jim asked, holding out his own bottle.

"To everyday miracles," Blair decided. "Because that's what it is. That's the life we live. And these people? This place? The fact that we're all here together to see it happening?" he gestured around the room. " _Definitely_ miracles."

"Amen, my brother," Jim said softly.


	9. Lessons Part 1

Kind of a serious one today. Note that the contents here are as accurate as I can make them, but the focus isn't on negotiation or on keeping your head down to survive first. That's not how this crew plays the situation in question. But for you here in our real world, always, ALWAYS try to build rapport and use your words and your humanity to gain advantage first; trust your instincts and keep yourself safe. But if that fails, if you can only fight and escape, well, maybe Race's advice will be of some use.

But I'm praying only our dear fictional characters ever need to use it.

Enjoy!

* * *

-==OOO==-

Lessons Part 1: Lessons from Race

-==OOO==-

It was a strange mix of people that gathered in the barn. They had chosen the barn because it was a big enough space for a crowd that wasn't normally in use by other groups. Someday, of course, the SELF lodge would sport livestock of their own, but at present the barn was mostly used for informal gatherings. And, sometimes, when the general feeling at the lodge had reached dismal, they hosted all manner of entertainment, from dances to talent competitions to variety shows there, packing it with chairs and mats and throwing the doors wide open to catch the fresh air. They didn't need to store anything in the barn since there was a storehouse across the garden, and though it often wound up hosting self-defense or martial arts classes, today those had been moved to the grassy field outside.

Race perched on a stool in the back of the open area of the barn, looking at his students for the day.

All the kids from the Chancery were present, as well as Jim, Blair, and Benton. Emeline and Hasna had sent Joel off with their daughters and had set themselves up in a couple of lounge seats from the pool. In fact, virtually everyone from the rescue outside Murmansk who spoke English had gathered. Simon was not in attendance – he and Brian and Henri were on shift at the police department this particular weekend – but he had given strict, stringent, _loud_ instructions to Blair Sandburg in particular to take notes. A few of the other younger Sentinels and new arrivals were scattered in the back of the room as well.

Race looked to Jim questioningly. The Sentinel tipped his head slightly and listened. It was, as Blair often remarked, a major advantage with having classes made up of Sentinels – they could always tell if someone was running late and hurrying to join them, so they never started without anybody. While SELF did have a schedule and they tried to stick to it, they didn't punish people for being late or having an absence. They were still a tribe first and an institute for learning second.

But Jim shook his head, hearing no frantic motions heading in their direction or shouts of "I'm coming, wait for me!" so Race stood up.

"Good morning, folks," he said with a smile. "Thanks for taking time out of your usual Saturday routines for this. Especially you, Blair," he winked at the Guide.

"Hey, it's not just me!" Blair protested with a smile. "Everybody raise your hands if you've ever been kidnapped or held captive before."

Virtually the entire room raised their hands except for Eric, Ngama, Kaimi, and a very few of the Sentinels. Race noted that Lai had her hand up in the air right beside Daryl and the Quest kids. _What fun lives we all lead_ , he thought grimly.

"Right," Race nodded, putting his own hand in the air. "And that's the point. So, welcome to your crash course in what to do if you are abducted or captured."

"First of all and the most important thing I can say here is this: don't ever give up. _Ever_." Race looked steadily through the room, making eye contact with every single individual present.

"Your captors want you to feel powerless and helpless and alone. They may tell you no one will come for you. They may tell you no one knows you are missing. They may tell you no one cares for you. Or they may tell you it is impossible for someone to find you.

" _This is a lie_.

"No matter what the circumstances, you are not helpless. No matter how powerful or clever your captors, if you are alive and conscious, you have something. You have yourself."

Race put up one hand. "And I give you my word, _we will find you_."

Jim actually stood from where he had been leaning to one side. "Every person in this room, every person at this lodge, every single member of SELF is under my protection. If no one else, _I_ will come for you. If you disappear, I _will_ find you. I will never give up until I bring you home, dead or alive."

"Raise your hands again," Race said, "if you swear on whatever you hold most dear that you will search for one another, no matter what."

Every hand in the room shot up. Race noted the fierce, blazing looks on many of the faces – the raw, undisguised loyalty and devotion between friends, Sentinel and Guide, family members.

"So. Rule number one. _Do not give up_. Any moment you start to lose hope, I want you to remember all these hands. I want you to remember Jim. I want you to remember that you are not alone, and that we will come for you. Hold onto this."

"Sentinels," Blair said, his voice taking on the low, almost hypnotic tone he had perfected in many, many sensory control classes. "Imprint this in your sense memory."

"And we," Hadji said in the same tone, gesturing to himself and Kaimi and Blair, "will imprint it in our spirits."

For a moment, all the Sentinels seemed to freeze, almost as if they were zoning. But Race knew this technique, at least, how Blair had described it. Sentinels had a strong ability to perfectly recall anything they had imprinted somewhere on their senses. They weren't all skilled at actually retrieving those memories at will – only one or two showed any real talent for it so far – but they all knew how to imprint in the first place. It meant that their senses would remember even if the rest of them forgot about this moment. It meant there would be a rallying cry to hold on even when all other conscious will had given way.

"Good," Race approved. "Now, rule number two. Because you are not powerless and because someone will come for you, you need to be alive and whole to be rescued or to escape on your own. Your safety is something you may not be able to control, but in as much as you can, you must.

"For example, if your only opportunity to escape is to leap off a six-story building's roof, don't try it. You're better off whole and able and still trapped than dead or injured so badly you can no longer help yourself. This also means," he pinned Jonny and Blair and Benton and Jessie with a glare, "don't irritate your captors to the point of really hurting you. If they took you alive, they need you alive. Don't make them question that."

Jim leaned forward and jabbed Blair hard. He stuck out his tongue.

"That said," Race's voice went still with repressed emotion, "you have to expect that you'll get hurt. You might be able to control when it happens or how, but you need to be ready to expect some pain. Don't let that get to your head. You can't get through this while being afraid of getting hurt. Get used to the idea as quickly as you can.

"Your next priority after your own safety is escape," Race continued in a more business-like tone. "If escape is impossible, such as you are stuck on an island in the middle of the Arctic ocean and you don't have a coat or a boat," he nodded at Hasna and Emeline, "then gather information instead. Because we will come for you. So make sure that when we get there you know as much as possible about everything – the layout of the place, possible blind spots, security, guard rotations, even if there are people on-site who might be sympathetic or willing to help you. If you can't get out, go deep into the place until you could invade it yourself. By the time we get to you, we might need something you've picked up."

Race gave that a moment to sink in, noting the nodding heads.

"Now, some of your experiences notwithstanding, most people who capture you aren't going to cart you to a deliberately-constructed prison. And anything short of a prison isn't designed to work as one. It may not be easy, but a warehouse or an office building or an apartment isn't actually built to keep you in. Time for audience participation. Examples?"

Hadji's hand went straight up. "Most public office buildings have drop ceilings or ceiling tiles to conceal wiring and light fixtures. The tiles themselves are flimsy and easy to break, but above them there is a crawlspace which is often lined with metal supports that will hold your weight. If you can get into the ceiling, you can evade capture and sometimes even move around the area freely as not all walls will pass through the false ceiling."

"Very good," Race approved. "What else?"

"If you're in the boot of a car, you might be able to kick out a tail light and wave," Lai suggested. "Also, lots of cars nowadays don't lock the boot from the inside so you might be able to find a release hatch."

"Also true," Race nodded.

"The doors in a standard house or basement aren't made to be unbreakable," Jim put in. "You might be able to take the hinges off or else just kick it open, though that would make a lot of noise."

"Warehouses have lots of access to the outside," Blair spoke up. "There's always going to be big fans and huge ducts to bring in air from the outside. Basements, too. Though you might have to do some climbing."

"Okay, but what if you are, for example, locked in a bathroom with no vents or windows or anything?" Kaimi asked. "And you're not strong enough to kick down the door?"

"Come see me after class for door-kicking training," Jim winked at her.

"It's a good question, though," Race said. "Some places aren't built to hold you but they'll do the job. Which means you need to make sure you leave clues to tell us you were there. Use your hands to leave clear fingerprints everywhere, even under the toilet seat if you're in a bathroom. Put hair down a drain and in cracks in the walls or tiles. Take a credit card and put it in a drawer or up a light fixture. If you can't get out, make sure there's no doubt about where you were in case you're not there anymore when we arrive."

"And remember you'll have Sentinels on your tail," Jessie said. "If you write a message really clearly on a wall or something with your finger, especially if you're dirty or wounded or sweating, normal people might not see more than a few smears, but the Sentinels would be able to distinguish the oils on your fingers."

"So might a cop with the right equipment," Jim added. "Try it. Try anything. The more evidence you leave behind, the better your chances of being found." _Or of helping us convict whoever put you there_ , he didn't say, but Race could hear it in the silence.

"Next," Race moved on, "the most important weapon isn't one you pick up to use to fight back. It's you. How you look, how you act, what you say, even what you're wearing and how you carry yourself can change the equation. If you look helpless and mousey, your captors might underestimate you. If you seem oblivious or like you're not paying attention, they may let information drop. You have to decide for yourself how you want them to see you. Maybe you want them to think you're a huge tough guy like Ellison because they'll hesitate before they hurt you."

He stopped. "Let's try an experiment. Jessie, Benton, stand up and come over here."

They did, shrugging at one another.

"Benton, I know you've got a pair of glasses in your pocket. Take them out and put them on. Jessie, just stand like you normally do."

As they complied, Race said, "Notice that Benton, in the coat and glasses, has the appearance of an academic. He's a big, tall guy, sure, but the coat hides his real size. Jessie, on the other hand, in just a t-shirt, looks lean and fit." He turned to them. "Benton, hand Jessie your glasses and sport-coat."

The instant Jessie donned the jacket and glasses, the impact was felt. "Now you can see Benton's arms and his real size in just his short-sleeved shirt," Race said. "Now he looks like a rugby player rather than a reader. And Jessie?"

"Looks like she's playing dress-up," Jonny couldn't help himself, earning a few chuckles.

"That, too," Race grinned. "Jess, pull your hair up now."

As she complied, he said, "The coat and glasses make Jessie look smaller because the coat is big on her, and people will always associate glasses with some kind of physical inferiority. Sorry," he winked at Blair who shrugged back. "But look at the difference now between having her hair unbound and having it pulled back."

"She looks even smaller, more studious now," Kaimi said. "More buttoned up, and less likely to come out swinging."

"Exactly. How you look can change the way your captors think about you. It can be a disguise or it can be armor. Use it. Thanks guys," he gestured for them to sit.

"If the best weapon is you even before you start fighting, the second-best weapon is whatever you need it to be. And anything, _anything_ can be a weapon. Lai," he pointed. "What weapon do you have on you right now?"

She never hesitated. "This," she pulled a pair of hair sticks from her thick dreadlocks. "Nobody will ever take these off me, but I could poke somebody in the eye with them."

"Even if you don't break the skin, jabbing someone in the throat or face or any other soft tissue will hurt enough to get them to flinch," Race nodded. "And maybe all you need is for them to drop their guard long enough for you to run. Hadji, what you got?"

"I carry a sharp, long pin in my turban," he answered promptly. "It could easily pass through a man's hand."

"And cause them a world of hurt while you bolt. Good. Ngama?"

"I do not know that anything on my person is useful," he said after a moment, "but based upon what you have said, that which I need could be anywhere around me. A towel rack or a shower curtain could be sufficient, or even hair-spray in someone's eyes as in Kaimi's bathroom example."

"Now you're thinking," Race nodded. "You aren't looking for a sword or a gun to kill people. You just need an advantage to make them stop long enough for you to run. If you fling a shower curtain over somebody's head when they come to collect you, you can probably rush them, knock them backwards, and suddenly you've got a margin to get clear of that bathroom. Every step after that is a good step. Don't waste time trying to beat up everybody you see," he glared at Jim, Jessie, and Jonny this time. "Just put them down hard enough to make a break for it."

"But if you want lessons on putting somebody down, we can do that, too," Jim said with a small smile.

"Yes we can. I hold that class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I think all of you know that," Race nodded.

"Now," he said, looking at some of the Sentinels from the Providence Partners Interglobal facility, "tell me why escaping is hard. What's the worst thing about it?"

Emeline raised her hand. "You mean _other_ than explosions, floods, and an ill-timed childbirth?"

The crowd laughed.

But Emeline continued, "It takes time. Just because you may be free of a bathroom or a car, you are not yet safe. You must gain distance and you must elude your captors."

"Got it in one," Race said. "You might be ready to run and you might be able to put a captor down long enough to give you the chance, but actually getting away means crossing yards or maybe miles of distance without being caught again or hurt in your attempt. You might need to switch tactics depending on what happens. You might need to get out of the bathroom but hide a couple of doors down until you have a clean shot at the stairs. You might break out of a conference room but you have to go down several stories in the building to street-level. You might escape the trunk of a car, but you have to get to where you can flag down help that isn't associated with your captors."

Race grimaced. "That's probably the most dangerous part. You're on the run, but you're not free yet. It's at this point that your captors may get desperate. They may decide it's easier to shoot you than run the risk of you getting away clean. You have to be ready for anything until you're truly safe.

"So, assume you have to cover your tracks. You might have to leave false trails or hole up somewhere while they search for you. In which case, I'm going to teach you a little secret."

Race pointed at Jonny. "Let's assume this complex wasn't full of Sentinels, but regular people. Where's the best hiding place?"

Jonny thought for a moment before answering, "Somewhere nearby. Like, within the perimeter. At least at first."

"Good. Now tell us _why_."

"If this whole place was full of bad guys, as soon as they know I'm out, they're going to start searching. They'll begin closest to wherever I was – the lodge, probably. Then they'll fan out. But they won't be looking too closely right outside their doorstep. They'll be expecting me to make a run for the woods and get as far away as I can. So if I hide out maybe right at the edge of the tree-line, I can let the search party go past me and sneak out behind them later."

"It doesn't work with dogs or Sentinels hunting you, of course," Race nodded, "but for normal people, they won't look twice in a place they don't expect you to be. Again, you have to rely on yourself. Pick a place to hide that's close enough that they'll overlook searching it, but far enough away that you can make a break for it later. Choose your time to run carefully – you want to catch them when they aren't ready for you. And once you abandon your hiding place, don't turn back. You might have to hide several times, but you always have to keep moving."

Hasna raised a hand. "What if they _do_ have Sentinels or dogs?"

Race sighed. "Do your best. Dogs and Sentinels aren't infallible, and you all know how to shut down a Sentinel, especially those not trained here. Dogs are harder. In that case, your best advantage is to get away before they know you're gone so you can put a lot of distance between you and any search party before they even start looking. Don't assume you can fool the dogs. Just go where they can't or won't follow or get so far ahead they won't reach you until you've hit safety."

Race sat back on the stool, suddenly weary.

"None of this is foolproof. And all of it is risky. Any move you make might be the one that makes them decide to really hurt you, or even kill you. There's no promises that your captors will make mistakes. And this isn't even the class about picking locks and getting out of ropes. If you're strapped to a table? I'm not sure any of this will help you." He looked up, and his years as a bodyguard were all in his face, his fear for them and his responsibility to them. "And if none of this saves you, I'm so sorry."

"But it will," Blair said. He rose and moved to put a hand on Race's shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

"Rule number one. Don't give up," Blair said. "Even if nothing else you've said today makes any difference, that one _will_ save us all. Because no matter what happens after that, we'll know we have something to believe in, some reason to fight, and something worth surviving for."

"And if the worst happens," Jim's voice was like stone, "then know that there will be justice for you, too. If I can't save you, I'll make them pay. I promise."

Race looked around the room at the nodding heads. He wished he could tell them all that it would never happen, that they would never be in that position. And he hated the world in which they lived sometimes. His eyes fell on Jonny, Jessie, and Hadji, who had known these truths since they were children. _I hate the world that makes you learn these lessons_ , he thought, _even as it makes me want to be better so I can protect you. I can only hope it's enough_.

"Class dismissed."


	10. Apparent Wind

My beta tells me that this oneshot reminds her of an episode of Jonny Quest with the focus on the fun rather than the adventure. It wasn't my intent, but it works!

Enjoy!

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Apparent Wind

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Definition: The apparent wind is the wind experienced by an observer in motion and is the relative velocity of the wind in relation to the observer. (Retrieved from Wikipedia on 8/22/14)

-==OOO==-

"Okay. Somebody remind me why we set up shop in Cascade instead of here?" Blair sighed blissfully, stretching on the hammock.

"You were the one who made the argument about how Cascade was my territory," Jim pointed out.

"Oh yeah. Bad pick, man. This is _way_ better."

Jim laughed. "Can't argue that, Chief."

Jim looked out over the blue water, the cloudless sky, the pale sand, and breathed in with deep contentment. Palm Key was a perfect retreat for an exhausted Sentinel, that was for sure. Not only was it purely lovely and tropically warm – it was also a completely private island. Jim didn't have to worry about sudden city noises or the smells and presence of hundreds of thousands of people all pressed in around him. He always relaxed when he and Blair took a fishing weekend away in the mountains, too, out in nature and away from the city, but the abject peace and solitude of Palm Key was downright luxurious.

Of course, the accommodations were pretty nice, too. Jim closed his eyes and let his senses wander. Beside him, Blair was half-asleep in a hammock hung between two leafy palm trees, his glasses and a book on his chest and steadily slipping to one side. A hundred yards behind them, Jim was aware of Race and Benton and Simon getting drinks from the specific-to-tropical-and-vacation-beverages refrigerator on the house's broad patio. The house itself was alight in a happy babble of conversation as the kids changed into bathing suits. Even without the full lab attached to the house, the place was almost the size of the mansion at the Quest compound, easily accommodating the eight kids from the Chancery throughout the bungalow.

"Hey Jim?" Blair mumbled sleepily.

"Hmm?"

"Do you feel bad that we didn't invite Brown and Rafe?"

"Nope," Jim said cheerfully. "They need more time at SELF anyway and somebody's got to hold down the fort at the station."

"Good," Blair yawned. "Me either." And promptly fell asleep.

Jim chucked but rose from his own beach lounge to spread a towel over his Guide – Blair might be warm and comfortable now, but without a little shelter the sun would find ways to burn him through the palm leaves. He turned in time to accept the cold drink from Simon, who smiled indulgently at the sleeping anthropologist and set his drink in the sand nearby in case Blair decided to wake back up.

"Need a hand?" Jim offered Race, the latter hauling several more chairs and towels in a bulky pile.

"Nah, I got it," he grinned, dumping his armload to take his own drink from Benton. "Nice to have some guests out here for once," he commented. "Feels more like a vacation when it's not just me and Benton, and half the time he winds up in the lab anyway!"

"Not this trip," Benton shook his head. "If I so much as set foot in there, Hadji and Jessie will be right behind me, and that would spoil things. I'm taking a vacation in order to make sure they do the same for once."

"What, no adventures?" Jim teased. "No alien conspiracies or magical carpets?"

"Not this time," Race shook his head. "Just us and Palm Key all to ourselves."

"I'm glad to hear it," Simon said, settling into his chair having finished setting up the others. "I could do with a quiet rest and no more running about like those kids."

As if summoned, the eight students appeared, racing to the beach and yelling to one another in a cacophony that was as bright as the sunlight. Jonny, Jessie, and Kaimi broke off from the rest to head for where Jim had already carried several surf-boards down from the bungalow, and within moments the three were out in the water and heading to where the reef that sheltered the cove produced the best waves. At the beach itself, Lai, Eric, and Ngama waded more gingerly into the sea, cheering on the other three. Bandit was a strong swimmer, but he opted not to follow his boy to the reef, instead paddling between the three in shallower waters.

Simon looked around. "Where's Daryl and Hadji?"

Benton smiled. "Up there," he pointed.

The beach on this side of the house was broad and flat for the most part, but there was one area where the headland rose up in a small cliff over a deeper portion of the cove. It was only a few yards above the water, but the real advantage of the spot was a small contraption Benton had built many years prior.

The three on the beach had paused in their hollering to turn in the same direction, and the three surfboarders were floating in the shallower waters above the reef, also watching.

Suddenly Hadji's voice rang out in a great cry. With a running start, he charged off the headland. In midair, he caught the trapeze that hung out over the water like a mid-air swing. When his hands closed on the bar, the whole thing picked up his momentum and swung in a broad arc over the bay. At the apex of the swing, Hadji released the bar, tucking his body into a ball to somersault twice in the air before cleanly diving into the water below.

He surfaced to cheering and waved.

"Pretty good," Jim commented.

"Took him three summers to perfect that move," Race said. "And it took Jonny and Jessie another year to copy him."

"There's also a retractable diving board and a tire swing and a long rope and a few other things up there," Benton explained. "I built it to be the Swiss Army Knife of diving platforms."

And indeed, the trapeze had retracted into the cover of the palm trees, replaced by a broad diving board. A moment later, Daryl appeared on the end of it. He waved to his dad before turning to stare out at the water.

Jim dialed up his vision to catch the look of concentration on Daryl's face. Then he began to bounce, first just a little to get a feel for the springiness of the board, then higher and higher. On the fifth bounce, he shot laterally into the air, arching into a perfect dive. He hit the water with almost no splash at all and his housemates roared their approval.

But he didn't come up right way. Jim hid a smile as Simon started to sit up, peering at the water for his son. Just before he could really start to worry, though, Daryl's dark head popped out of the water – right next to Jessie. She was clearly not expecting it and flailed in the water with a cry of surprise before promptly splashing Daryl and starting a small splashing war out over the reef.

Hadji was making his way towards the beach; this time when he emerged from the sea, all three who had previously been more timid followed him, taking turns leaping off the headland either by way of the diving board, the trapeze, or the rope swing. Only once did Hadji demonstrate the least-used of the diving platform's extensions, something Jonny called the "slingshot." It was a solid disc upon which Hadji stood, bracing himself. When the lever was yanked, the disc would snap out of the tower like a clay pigeon in skeet-shooting. It remained airborne for a few long moments, hovering in the air, before its trajectory began to decay under Hadji's weight, at which point Hadji dived off and the disc was retracted on a cord.

"The only one who makes that thing look good is Jessie," Race commented. Beside him, Bandit yipped cheerfully – many years before, the dog had learned not to join anyone near the diving tower if he didn't want to be flung into the water from a height himself, so he was content to chase the stick Race obligingly threw into the waves for him.

"Hadji didn't look too bad," Jim said.

"Hadji only ever runs it at about half power, though," Benton explained. "They don't use it often because it's unpredictable. A little shift of the wind and the thrower might send them careening off to the side or they might slide off it too soon. Jessie's advantage is the difference in her weight and center of gravity. But even then, it's a little more dangerous than it is entertaining."

"Why did you build it, then?" Simon frowned.

Race shrugged. "You've been around long enough to know, Simon – we live on the line between fun and danger."

"And," Benton said, "to use the old excuse: it seemed like a good idea at the time. But don't worry. Hadji won't unlock it for the others. It takes practice to use safely."

Simon was shaking his head and Jim laughed. "Come on, Simon. Which of us went on a weekend vacation and wound up in the middle of a drug operation?"

"Even so, I don't make a practice of confusing foolishness and recklessness with relaxation!" he replied.

"Maybe you should," came Blair's sleepy, mumbly voice from the hammock. "Sometimes you need an adventure more than a break." And then he snorted and shifted and was apparently asleep again.

Simon rolled his eyes. But as the other jumpers opted for the slightly safer options and as the surfers got up on their boards – Daryl retreating to join the jumpers – he relaxed again _. If the worst trouble we'll get into this time is that crazy contraption, we're probably doing okay_.

-==OOO==-

After the morning of watersports and beach time, everyone retreated into the bungalow for a late lunch followed by almost the entire party opting to take a nap. Only Blair, who had slept all morning on the beach, Ngama, who had done only a few jumps as he was not a very confident swimmer, Lai, who didn't believe in taking naps, and Hadji were left when everyone else found a comfy couch, hammock, or bed for a few hours.

"Well, since we've got some time," Blair said, "Hadji, would you mind showing us the rest of the island?"

"Certainly," he smiled, stepping into some sandals by the door. "As you have already seen the house and the helicopter landing pad and the cove, let us head towards the other end of the island. It is only slightly more than two miles in length and about half that in width, so our exploration should be complete well before the others wake."

Hadji and Blair exchanged grins – on an island much larger, or populated by more than just their party, their Sentinels might have stronger feelings about whether or not they wandered off, even though they were perfectly competent. But here, miles of ocean between the island and any other human being, Jonny and Jim were sleeping with a profound sense of secure peace so potent their Guides could feel it.

Even so, Ngama quietly promised himself he would watch over the two Guides in his care.

Hadji led his friends along his favorite route, beginning at the cove beach by the house and moving southwards along the sea. Beyond the cove, much of the island's edge was smooth with few trees or any plants above scrub level. But at the far end, where the island came down to a sharp point, the shoreline vanished in a thick swamp of mangroves. Hadji led the way to a rough path, partially constructed of planks braced between the mangrove roots.

"Come," he said. "Perhaps we will see a crocodile."

Ngama cast out his senses automatically, long-since familiar with watching for the slender-snouted crocodiles of his homeland. Though the mangrove itself was only a few hundred yards across, that was plenty of habitat to support a few crocodiles, and he was unsurprised to sense them, their slowly-beating hearts sounding in the waters below. As Hadji led the way, Lai behind him and Blair eagerly looking around as he moved nimbly from tree to tree, Ngama enhanced his senses even more. He would not want his friends to be ambushed by a crocodile, and he would certainly not want to face down his fellow Sentinels if he allowed a crocodile to get too close to either Guide.

When they were near to one, Ngama stopped to point it out to the others.

"It's so…pale," Lai said. "I have never seen a crocodile that light in color before. Is it albino?"

"No," Hadji shook his head. "This variety is often a strangely pale grey compared to their relatives in other places. They blend in well on the sandy beaches, but with this mangrove here, they rarely go to the trouble. Though, we did wake one morning as children to find a juvenile crocodile sunning itself on the patio! Bandit has never come near this part of the island unless carried, and for good reason. I believe he has developed a sense for when we will be heading in this direction, which is why he did not join us."

"And the fact that he would rather be cuddling with Jonny under a palm tree at the moment has nothing to do with it?" Lai asked with a smile.

"Of course not."

Watching the crocodile hover beneath the roots of the mangrove off to the side, Blair launched into an excited description of ancient Central American cultures and their myths and practices regarding crocodiles. Ngama knew it was impolite not to listen, but he could not help but be drawn away. He could not identify what sense was speaking to him so strongly, but he knew better than to ignore it. So he left the path quietly, moving to the trees and stepping between roots lithely as he went deeper into the mangrove.

It was only a dozen or so yards in that he found what he was looking for.

"What is it?" came Hadji's voice, quietly. Ngama turned to find that he had been followed.

"I am not sure," Ngama replied.

"Are you all right?" Hadji made the last jump to join Ngama on a broad root and put a hand on the Sentinel's shoulder. "You were in a very trance-like state for a moment."

"I am fine," Ngama assured him. "But I felt…"

"You were drawn to it," Blair said. "It's happened to Jim, too. You have your senses dialed up, don't you?"

Ngama nodded. "I was watching for crocodiles."

"Well," Lai appeared, moving a little more stiffly than those who had spent a great deal of time in wilder places, "then clearly there is something here worth perceiving. What have you found?"

"This," Ngama ran his hand over the stone.

Hadji nodded. "I remember this well, though I have not ventured here in some years. Jonny and I have always called it the 'headstone' because it reminds us both of a grave marker."

"Yeah, it does," Blair squinted at the solid piece of stone sticking up out of the roots of a truly ancient mangrove tree, its base far below the level of the water. "And there's no way it's natural, either. I haven't seen any stone like this anywhere on the island. I guess a hurricane could have carried it here, or else it was dropped off intentionally."

"That was Doctor Quest's conclusion as well," Hadji said. "At one time there may have been writing on it, but it has proved too worn away for us to determine."

"Sure, but we have an advantage now that you previously lacked," Lai said. "Ngama is a Sentinel. Maybe he can make it out."

"I can try," he offered. Enhancing his sight even farther, Ngama also ran his fingers lightly over the weathered stone, his senses working together to draw out the hidden marks that time and water had long since dulled.

After a long examination, he looked up. "There is definitely something here, but...it seems strange to me."

"Can you write it down?" Blair asked eagerly, passing forward a notebook that was ever-present in one of his pockets.

Ngama quickly copied the letters as they were written. When he passed the notebook to where the other three now crowded around the ancient mangrove, Lai reacted immediately.

"It is English, but a very, very old English!" She ran her own fingers over the notebook as though reading the words that way. "Well, not this bit at the top," she clarified. "I cannot be completely sure, but I believe that is Irish or Gaelic. I don't know them, but I have seen them in my father's books many times. But this," she tapped the rest of the page, "is English as it was written several hundred years ago, complete with some pretty strange spellings."

"That would be the right time in this area of the world," Blair considered. "There was a lot of commerce here, and especially in the early 1700's when piracy was big, the English were also fighting to maintain a foothold against all the other nations claiming everything in sight."

"Read it, please," Ngama requested.

Lai read the words slowly and clearly. "To my fair mother. May ye lighthouse prove your freedom from men and chains. Here lies ye body of Anne Bonny, deceased October 1724."

"Anne Bonny!" Hadji's eyes widened. "The pirate?"

"You know of her?" Lai asked.

Hadji nodded. "Yes, it is a famous story and one of Jessie's favorites. Anne Bonny was a pirate, one of the few women who became known as such. She was quite brave and apparently very skilled in battle as well. She was captured along with another woman who was disguised as a man, and both were to be executed along with their pirate captain in 1720. But they claimed to be pregnant and were allowed to live. However, Anne vanished from custody, never to be seen again."

"Well, then, clearly she survived to have the child," Ngama said. "And that person buried Anne Bonny somewhere in the area? What can it mean by 'ye lighthouse?'"

"Come!" Hadji's face was lit by an excitement rarely seen in the usually serene young man. "I have a suspicion I may be able to answer that question."

They carefully picked their way back to the regular path through the mangroves, Hadji leading the way and the others rushing as much as they dared. Blair did lose his footing at one point, but Ngama dived to catch him before his foot went unwisely into the water where a crocodile might strike. As the mangroves thinned out, a rocky area came into view.

"This whole area is mostly reef," Hadji gestured, "and _that_ , I believe, could be our lighthouse."

The water was choppy as it moved over hidden sandbars and other underwater irregularities, and the surf crashed at the base of a rock formation a few hundred yards off shore.

"Isn't it just part of the reef?" Lai asked, squinting.

"No," Hadji shook his head. "It was once a much taller structure like a spire of stone, but it collapsed in a hurricane several years ago. Doctor Quest has often said that this rock formation was what inspired him to add a lighthouse to the Maine complex."

Ngama studied the area. "If a very great storm appeared, it is possible that the wind and waters could dislodge something from there and carry it this way. And once caught up in the mangroves, it would naturally migrate inwards with the tides over time."

"Sounds good to me!" Blair grinned. He pulled off his shirt and stepped out of his sandals. "So, who's coming with me?"

"The waters here are not so calm as they are at the cove," Hadji warned. "I have made the swim before, of course, and the tide is fairly low, but we should still exercise caution."

"I don't think I'm a strong enough swimmer to handle it," Lai said. She looked at where the waters crashed and churned. "Maybe if we waited until the tide dropped even more?"

"It will not go much lower than this," Hadji shook his head. "But please do not make the attempt if you do not feel comfortable."

Ngama was torn. On the one hand, he wanted to go, not only for curiosity's sake, but to watch over the pair of Guides. On the other, he was not even as skilled at swimming as Lai and might prove to be a liability.

"Don't sweat it," Blair smiled at him. "You can be our lookout. If you see something, just holler. You'll be better able to spot trouble from here than in the water, anyway."

Ngama nodded and took up a position on a small rise while Hadji and Blair stripped out of everything but the bathing suits they wore. Hadji meticulously unwound his turban, folding it neatly and setting it atop his shirt. Then they were both away into the water and swimming smoothly against the waves.

"He's not supposed to do that, you know," Lai said as she joined Ngama.

"Who is not supposed to do what?"

"Hadji isn't supposed to take his turban off unless he has some other covering for his hair. It's part of his religion."

Ngama considered for a moment. "I have never asked him of his beliefs. Have you?"

"Oh yes," Lai said. "We have had several interesting discussions along those lines. I understand he found his faith while a child in Calcutta, so I would guess perhaps he developed the habit then, but I do not know why he has continued it now that he could easily afford the additional covering."

"Knowing him as I do, I imagine it is not chance or lack of devotion. It is likely a reason of his own that has more to do with his desire to recall his roots and maintain his perspective." Ngama had not taken his eyes off the two Guides but now he held up a hand. "One moment, please."

He took in a deep breath. " _BEWARE ON YOUR LEFT_!"

Out in the surf, Hadji and Blair paused, then began to swim slightly more towards the right.

"What's there?" Lai asked.

"A very rocky reef, close enough to the surface that they would likely be cut on it if they tried to swim over it."

Lai nudged him with a smile. "Good thing we've got you on lookout."

-==OOO==-

Blair pulled himself up on the rock, pushing off with his feet to keep from scraping his legs all down the barnacled surface. "Looked smaller from back there," he grunted.

Hadji, also climbing onto the low sea stack, smiled. "It is our relative position that changes our understanding, for that which is does not change by our motion."

"You've got water in your ears," Blair said. "That one almost made sense."

"Perhaps you are growing in wisdom," Hadji replied.

Blair shook his head. "Let's go look at this lighthouse of yours." Stepping carefully on the wet and sharp rock, he moved towards what had, from the shore, appeared to just be a mound of stone – a part of the rock formation. But now that they were closer, Blair could clearly see that there were several large rocks broken apart rather than a single formation.

"When it stood," Hadji said, "it was at the south end. It appears that it was destroyed and tipped over as a tree in the forest."

"If a rock pillar falls on an island and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?" Blair smirked.

"I should think, in the case of all this stone, a very big sound." Hadji stepped around the large rock pieces towards the southern area of the rock. "I believe any answers we will find will be here."

Blair shivered, the water on his skin cooling suddenly and leaving him a little breathless. Something at the edge of his awareness prickled. "Uh…Hadji?"

Hadji did not turn around, but he spoke quietly and intently. "I know. I too feel it."

Blair said, carefully and deliberately, "Ngama? Maybe you'd better – "

That was as far as he got.

-==OOO==-

Jim's eyes snapped open. The cry from outside was clearly panicked. "Jim! Jonny! Doctor Quest! Everybody! Wake up!"

Jim surged to his feet, almost crashing into Jonny who suddenly appeared from the next room down the hall. They didn't even need eye contact to communicate, racing towards the large, open doors that led to the beach. Jim spared a small part of his attention to sweep the area and growled. Not including himself (or Bandit), there should have been twelve heartbeats in or near the house. He could only hear seven.

"Jim! Jonny! Hurry!"

The pair of Sentinels hit the patio just as Lai came sprinting around the edge house. Jim managed to get to a stop and caught the girl in his arms.

"Lai, what's wrong? What's going on?" he asked.

The Chinese-British young woman, normally so poised, was breathing heavily and her face was torn with worry. "They…something's wrong. Ngama's zoning and…Blair and Hadji…"

"Where are they?" Jonny demanded. He became aware of the rest of the house rousing behind him. Simon, who had been napping on the porch, was already on his feet and calling for Kaimi.

"The…the lighthouse. Near the mangroves."

Jonny didn't waste time – he just started to run. Jim handed Lai off to Simon and took off after him, the Sentinels running and straining with all their senses for some hint of their Guides.

Two minutes later, they caught another sound, dialing their hearing down quickly as Race appeared with a dune buggy. "Get on!" he shouted. Kaimi was sitting beside him, so Jim and Jonny grabbed onto the roll-bars and perched on the back. Race took off down the beach.

"The others will be behind us as soon as they get organized," Race said, "but I thought you three probably wanted to be there first."

Jim didn't answer, but he was frowning darkly. _If Sandburg's managed to get himself in trouble in less than an hour on a mostly-deserted tropical island, I'm locking him up at SELF for life – he needs to be in a bubble made of titanium to keep the trouble out_.

The dune buggy was able to quickly navigate the roadless beaches, and with Race's reckless driving they covered the distance in what seemed like only a few too-long moments.

"There!" Jonny shouted, spotting Ngama on the beach. Out at the rock in the water, things were not so clear.

Kaimi was out of the dune buggy even before Race had stopped, catching her feet under her and scrambling to her Sentinel. She saw that he was deep in a zone and spared half a moment to thank Lai for her quick thinking. All members of SELF had training on what to do if a Sentinel was zoning and couldn't be roused – they needed to get the Sentinel to a safe spot and sit them down to prevent falling over and being hurt. Lai had actually gotten Ngama all the way to the ground and had borrowed Blair's pile of clothing to put under his head.

"Ngama," Kaimi whispered, gently running her fingers through his thick, coarse hair and down to his cheeks. "Come back to me, Sentinel. Listen to my voice. You must focus on something else. Please, Ngama. Find me." She laid a feather-light kiss on his lips.

Ngama shuddered under her hands and blinked. "Kaimi?" Then his eyes widened. "Hadji! Blair!"

He surged to his feet, Kaimi at his elbow and they rushed to where Race had stopped beside Jim and Jonny.

"What's happening?" Race asked.

"I don't even know," Jim said lowly.

"Do not try to listen," Ngama said. "You will be lost."

Jonny shot him an angry look. "What are they doing out there?"

"It is a story too long for this moment," Ngama said. "But I believe…perhaps whatever it is may be over."

"I think you're right," Jim said.

"Okay," Race held up his hands. "Just tell me, you guys of the crazy good vision. Were we seeing somebody else out on that rock with them? And some kind of localized windstorm? Or was that just me?"

"No, we saw it, too," Jonny said.

"Oh good. Otherwise I'd have to have Benton get my eyes checked."

Jim frowned at Race's casual attitude. But before he could call the man on it, he heard Blair shouting from the rock.

"Sorry if we scared you! We're okay. We'll be on our way in just a minute. Just have to…figure this out. Don't worry!"

"'Don't worry,' he says," Jim grumbled. "Nearly gave us a heart attack."

"They don't seem hurt," Ngama observed.

"Yeah, but there was still a lady out there," Jonny protested. "A lady that isn't there now. A _ghost_ lady. Oh, and the winds. And…" He shivered and decided he didn't really feel like describing that eerie sound.

Blair and Hadji disappeared behind some rocks, though the Sentinels could hear them moving around. However, neither Guide was talking, confounding their attempts to determine what they were up to. By the time the pair dropped into the water and began swimming back to the shore, the rest of the group had arrived in an overland jeep.

"What is that thing following them?" Jim asked sharply.

"It's not alive," Ngama offered. "I believe they have tied it to Hadji's ankle, but I…"

"You too, huh?" Jim asked. Any time he tried to look too closely at the item, he felt like zoning.

"You guys are such worriers!" Blair yelled when they were just a few dozen yards out. "We're fine!"

"Ngama zoned!" Lai yelled back. "And you weren't answering me! Of course I went for help!" She crossed her arms. "Guides are stupid," she muttered.

Jonny snorted and Jim huffed in agreement.

"I know where you sleep," Kaimi warned her.

Jonny, tired of waiting for his Guide, charged into the water until he was standing up to his waist. "Hadj! What happened? Are you okay?"

"I am fine, my friend," Hadji said, collected as always. "Blair and I have merely…had our own small adventure."

"What did you find?" Jessie asked, darting forward. "Why did you go out there? There's nothing there."

"That is where we have been wrong for a great many years," Hadji replied with a smile.

Blair reached down and picked up a large glass jug, brown-colored and tightly stoppered with a cork. He produced it with a flourish. "A tale worthy of an ocean legend!" he declared.

Benton approached. "We should wait to open that until we're in the lab. Just in case. The contents could be delicate."

"Not this one," Blair said, and winked at Hadji. Hadji grinned brightly.

"Sandburg…" Jim growled, practically yanking his partner out of the surf and both scanning him for injury as well as glaring at him.

"The winds of time have delivered unto us an answer to an old mystery," Hadji said. "But only because at last we had the sense to understand it."

Simon buried his face in his hands. "Can't anybody get a straight answer out of the pair of them?"

Blair and Hadji exchanged another look and smiled smugly.

Race sighed. "Apparently not."

-==OOO==-

"So, when we found the stone lid of the sarcophagus and touched it, she appeared," Blair said, his hands waving as he illustrated the point. "She was so clear and strong. I think she might even have been a Guide when she was alive."

"Miss Anne Bonny thanked us for finding her at last. She had wished to prove her legacy once and for all, not just as the fearsome female pirate, but as the woman who bested the guards of Spanish Town and evaded all the combined forces of Port Royal to escape. And, of course, she kept a great deal of the wealth she and Calico Jack had stolen and was able to retrieve it to raise her son in comfort." Hadji sat back, gesturing to the pages Doctor Quest had carefully extracted from the jug. "These are her own words that she wished to be known."

"They will be," Benton looked amazed at the find of unexpected legacy. "And to think all this time she was there, but we never knew."

"It took a Sentinel to read the headstone." Lai smiled at Ngama.

"And it took the presence of a fully awakened Guide to draw her presence from its long rest," Ngama said.

"Does this happen everywhere you go?" Eric asked with a look at Jonny.

"Not really," Jonny shrugged.

"Oh yes it does!" Race and Jessie countered.

"I thought this was a vacation," Simon groaned. "No adventures. No danger."

"They did warn you that they don't know the difference," Jim pointed out. "And, all things considered, it wasn't really that dangerous."

"It could have been," Kaimi said suddenly. "Or are you going to tell me all ghosts are nice old Guide ladies?"

The sudden, awkward silence from the Quests confirmed her words.

Blair shrugged. "It's all a matter of perspective. For Jim and me, this is still a pretty restful vacation. No terrorists or serial killers or poachers or hit-men. So we're doing good so far!"

"Just a 280-year old ghost," Daryl laughed.

Meanwhile, Jim had pounced on his partner and was vigorously giving him a noogie.

"What? Man! Stop! Quit it! What'd I do?" Blair managed.

"Don't say things like that!" Jim said, grinning even as he kept up his attack. "Are you _asking_ the Sandburg Zone to manifest down here?"

"No!"

"Yeah, I'll believe that when I see it," Simon groaned. He decided this was a great time to grab another drink, just in case. "If you ruin my one tropical vacation in the last decade with your powers of chaos, I'll…find something awful to do to you, I promise!"

"Do not worry, Simon," Hadji smiled serenely. "Even should this trip go spectacularly awry, we can always come back another time."

"Yeah," Jonny grinned at his brother. "Maybe next time _you'll_ be the one to find a pirate ship! Maybe you'll have to duel a ghost or rescue a treasure or something!"

"Does that sort of thing really happen?" Jim paused in his torment of his Guide and looked up.

The Quests traded guilty looks again and everyone but Simon laughed.

"I'm never leaving Cascade again," he moaned. "It _never_ works out."


	11. Lessons Part 2

I hope these little lessons help somebody out there. This one, in particular, is close to my heart. I pride myself on being highly observant of my surroundings. Let's see how the others do!

Enjoy!

* * *

-==OOO==-

Lessons Part 2: Lessons from Jim

-==OOO==-

"Why am I doing this again, Sandburg?" Jim asked irritably.

"Because we need it," Blair shrugged. "Because it doesn't matter how well a Sentinel can see if they aren't paying attention. It doesn't matter if they can spot the clues if they don't actually know how to put them together."

"We've got courses for things like this," Jim pointed out. "It's called the Academy."

"Yeah, and you try to explain to those people why more than a hundred people suddenly want to sign up," Blair shook his head. "Even Simon agrees. You're the best. You can do this, man."

"We'll see." Jim crossed his arms. "I hate public speaking."

"What public?" Blair asked. "This is our tribe. And it's not a lecture." At the glare, he put up his hands. "I mean, it _is_ a lecture in that you'll be doing a lot of the talking. But it's not…nobody expects you to be anything but what you are. You're not a professor. We know that. We just want your opinion."

Blair poked his partner. "And I've never ever seen you turn down the chance to give your opinion, Ellison. Usually at length."

Jim swiped at him but smiled. At least Sandburg would be there to back him up if he needed it. As always. _A robbery or a kidnapping or a murder or talking to the entire population of SELF, he's always got my back. With so many Sentinels without Guides, I can really see how lucky I really am to have that_.

"Okay, Einstein. Let's do this."

Jim strode into the cafeteria, the only place big enough at the lodge for everybody to gather. And it seemed _everybody_ was there – even those Sentinels whose command of English was rough at best. The tables had all been pushed away and people crowded in clumps and crowds on chairs or on the floor wherever they could find room. Henri Brown had built a little podium out of the wood from an old waterbed, and this sat proudly at the far end of the room nearest the kitchen. It was a couple of yards across and about four feet wide, plenty big enough for Jim to stand on and gain a foot and a half of height over his audience. Blair bounced at his side, but opted to stay off the podium for now.

 _We'll see how long that lasts_ , Jim thought. _The minute he's got something to say, he's going to be up here with me, voluntarily or not_.

As Jim gazed around the room while conversations died away, he was amazed at the crowd. What had been once just an idea was now a living, thriving community of close to 140 Sentinels and 30 other allies, family members, and Guides. And, Jim was startled to realize, there were no strangers to him in the crowd. Every man, woman, and child was someone he knew by name, knew if they were a Sentinel, and if so, knew their spirit animals. The only ones missing were the kids in Ivanna's care and the skeleton crew out manning the perimeter, and those, Jim knew, were the Sentinels either so old as to be least likely to need his lesson or those like Dmitri who had already learned and taught similar things before themselves. Even Simon, Joel, Henri, and Brian were in attendance, sitting near the Chancery group.

Jim glared at his Major Crimes coworkers on principle. They knew all this stuff already. There was no reason for them to be here but to give him a hard time later. They grinned back.

"Okay. Hi everybody," Jim surged ahead before letting himself think too much more. The room went instantly silent. "Sandburg and Benton have asked me to talk to you about observation today.

"I'm not a teacher, you all know that," he said, and a laugh ran through the crowd, "but being a cop has changed the way I use my senses. And this isn't about being a Sentinel. Being a Sentinel means you can see more, but that doesn't mean you're going to use it any better than anybody else. The difference is training and practice.

"One of the classes at the Police Academy taught that being a good observer had to do less with seeing everything and more with knowing what to look for. Let's try an example. I've got a plant in the crowd today. What's out of place?"

It was Simon who spoke up almost at once. "Race Bannon is wearing a trench-coat. Indoors."

"How many of you noticed it?" Jim asked. "Not how many of you can see it now that it's been pointed out, but how many looked at that and thought it was strange?" Some hands went up in the crowd, including, to Jim's pride, Blair's, the three Quest kids', and Daryl's.

"You could all see it. Why didn't you notice?"

"Because we weren't looking for it," Ngama said.

"And that's it right there," Jim nodded. "Observation isn't about how much you can see. It's about looking for what doesn't fit in a pattern. Imagine you're watching a sports game on television."

That elicited a round of groaning and Jim hurried on before he accidentally stirred up the recent debate that had taken over the previous night's dinner between two rival loyal rugby factions.

"One full set of the stands is fans of the blue team, and the other set is for the red team. But let's say two people switched tickets. One red shirt is going to stand out in a sea of blue shirts, and the single blue shirt will stand out in the sea of red shirts. You have to learn to look for that blue shirt in a sea of red so you know what's out of place.

"And it's not just what you can see. All your senses play a part in it. If you smell sulfur or rotten eggs, that's out of the ordinary and it's a deliberate signal of a gas leak. A Sentinel might have a more sensitive nose or might pick up a softer sound from farther away, but you have to learn to assess everything you take in, all the time, and let the noticeable stuff rise to the surface."

Blair bounced up and Jim smiled, conceding the floor to him. "As Sentinels, we're always teaching you to assess and dismiss what your senses are telling you. Like being able to sit in a room this full of people and, without having to consciously think about it, identify and catalog and then ignore all the different smells, from each person's shampoo to their clothes to a musty old towel or Simon's cigars. You've all been working on it, on letting your brain run in the background, catching the scents and isolating them and then ignoring them."

Jim nodded and took up the lecture again. "But to observe, you have to develop the secondary habit of having whatever doesn't belong rise to the top. It won't always be as obvious as a blue shirt in a crowd of red. You have to trust yourself to learn to dismiss anything not worth noticing and hone in on what matters." Jim crossed his arms. "So what's wrong right now?"

He smiled as he watched the room full of Sentinels begin stretching out all their senses, trying to take in everything and spot the tiny change. He watched carefully to see if any Sentinels started to zone, ready to sic the Guides on them if they needed it.

Suddenly Jonny looked up in alarm. "Blair's not breathing!"

Jim grinned as his partner deliberately let out the breath he'd been holding and gave Jonny a thumbs-up. "Thanks for spotting it before I turned purple."

Jim nudged him in the direction of a few Sentinels who had zoned and Blair hopped down to go help them, Hadji and Kaimi following in his wake. While the Guides worked, Jim returned to the lesson.

"Did anyone else catch it?" he asked. A few hands rose, including one or two of the non-Sentinels who were in the front rows. "Spotting what's missing is harder than seeing something that's there, but it's almost more important. If there was a person behind you on the bus and they stop breathing, you need to make sure they're okay. If there was a timer counting down and it suddenly stops, that's probably not good news."

He turned. "Jonny, how did you spot Blair's little trick?"

"Uh," he frowned as he tried to put it into words, "well, I already knew nothing had changed in what I could see since, you know, nothing changed. So it had to be a thing I could hear or smell. And…I'm not sure what I did. I just seized onto Blair somehow."

"That's right," Jim nodded. "This is more Sandburg's thing," but his Guide was busy so he forged on, "but the human brain, especially a Sentinel's brain, can take in a lot more data than we ever understand. It's the same reason we can remember so much if we try. We're like a computer with infinite memory about whatever we've experienced. But it also works in the moment.

"All of your brains took in all the input of the room when you were paying attention and before. All of you could hear Sandburg not breathing. Some of you might even have heard him very slowly taking in a big breath so he could hold it. What you have to do – and what I can't teach you to do – is get your brain to take whatever it absorbed and spit a highlights version back out that you can assess."

Jim switched tactics. "How many of you know how to drive?"

Most hands in the room went up.

"Then this is something your brain already knows how to do. When you're driving, you might be talking to someone or listening to the radio or thinking. But you are also thinking about driving, about what your body is doing to keep the car on the road. And you're looking ahead and behind and to the sides for any kind of trouble, like a deer running out in front of you or a car suddenly swerving. You don't consciously watch every car in case it swerves or every inch of forest in case an animal comes out, but you still react if it happens. Why?"

"Because a critter breaking from the trees is a change," Brian offered.

"Exactly. The pattern is an unbroken line of forest along the road. So as soon as something crosses that boundary, the change grabs your attention and you focus on it. Think about if you've ever driven in a winter storm. You're probably focusing on the feel of the car on the road in case there's black ice. You feel every bounce of the tires on the pavement, and you feel the littlest give if there's a patch of ice under the wheels because it's different than when the tires were on road. And that kind of heads-up can help you avoid losing control of the car.

"Now, imagine paying that close attention _all the time_. To everything around you."

"You'd go crazy," Kaimi declared quietly.

"If you tried to consciously focus on every little thing? Probably," Jim nodded. "But you don't have to. Your brain can do that without you. Like with driving a car, if you're just going along and listening to music, you aren't really listening to the sound of your tires or brakes. But if you teach your brain to be listening, if your brakes start squeaking, you'll notice. Because there will be a squeak where there wasn't before."

"But how do you teach your brain to listen for you like that?" Joel asked with a knowing glint in his eye.

"I'm not sure," Jim acknowledged. "But it takes practice. And you start by noticing the patterns. For example, of you who live here at the lodge, how many know where I always park my truck?"

A few hands went up.

"Really? That's all?" Jim shook his head. He looked to the Major Crimes group. "You guys?"

Every hand from the department went up. Jim noticed that the Quests and Daryl had their hands up also, as did Eric.

"Where do I park?" he asked, pointing to Eric.

"You always take the fourth space back on the left hand side of the parking lot just outside the front door," Eric answered promptly.

"And how do you know that?"

"Well…it's a pretty distinctive truck. And I just…kind of noticed that it was always there when you're here. So I got in the habit of looking for it when we come up here. If the truck's not there, you're not at the lodge. That way I don't have to go looking for you."

"Excellent. Sure you don't want to be a cop?" Jim teased. Eric shook his head, hiding a smile.

"Why does it matter where I park my truck?" Jim asked the room.

"Because if something happened, we'd need to be able to find you," shouted one of the Sentinels.

"Good. Why else?"

"Because if someone stole your truck and came up here, they wouldn't know that," answered Luka. "So if we saw your truck in a place really far away from your usual – and your usual spot was open – we'd know something was really wrong."

"Exactly," Jim nodded. "The observation of that fact puts you in better stead to have information that will help you in an emergency _or_ to warn you of an emergency before it happens."

"And don't forget," Blair returned to Jim's side and got on the podium, "most of you have another advantage. If you have a Sixth or Seventh sense, those are also taking in information all the time. Maybe you would walk up to a house and get a bad feeling. That could be one of your other senses telling you that they have perceived something that's seriously bad news but you can't tell any other way. If your Sixth or Seventh senses are yelling at you, you better pay attention."

"And, much as I hate to admit it," Jim said, "that Sixth sense does work with the others. You might have a feeling something is going to happen just before the deer jumps out from the woods. So get in the habit of bracing yourself to react whenever you have that bad feeling. If you're wrong and nothing happens, you don't lose anything by being ready. But if you ignore it and that deer comes out, you'll regret it."

"A lot of the tests Benton and I give you will help sharpen your senses and your ability to use them," Blair put in. "But only you can teach yourself to be paying attention all the time. First, it's a conscious effort, like managing the dials in your head. But as you do it more and more, it becomes second nature. How many of you are handling being in this room without consciously moving dials around?"

The fact that more than half of the Sentinels in the room raised their hands was a testament to Blair's tireless work with them and Jim felt a stab of pride in his Guide.

"And at first you had to do it all the time. But now, how many of you didn't even think about your dials until I mentioned them?"

Many of the hands stayed up, including Jim's and Jonny's.

"This works on the same principle," Jim said. "You'll have to start by watching everything, listening to everything, smelling everything. But you'll start to form baselines for how things normally are and you won't need to pay attention. And then something will happen that doesn't fit, that breaks the pattern. There will be a blue shirt in the red crowd, and you'll pick up on it."

"What makes for a good Sentinel or a good observer," Blair winked at Jim, "is being able to see what others miss. But you'll only see it if you know to look for it. So we've got a few tests ready for you all. Somewhere in the lodge greatroom are three things that are wrong. They should be perceptible to non-Sentinels, too. You all know this lodge backwards and forewards. I want everybody to go out and not come back until they can name all three things."

"And no cheating!" Jim said loudly as people began to move. "When you get back, we'll make you prove you found them all."

There was a rush for the doors of all but Jim, Blair, Benton, and Race. Jim noted with amusement that Jonny took one look at the crowd trying to get through the main door at the end of the cafeteria and quickly turned to lead his group out through the kitchen instead.

"I thought that went quite well," Benton said.

"I hope it got through to them," Jim let out a sigh. "It's like being asked to explain how you breathe. You just…do."

"That's because you're a trained observer, soldier, and detective," Race said. "But you weren't always. I think you gave about as good of an intro as anybody can."

"We'll find out." Blair reached to the counter-top behind him for a stack of paper and pencils.

They didn't have to wait long. Within two minutes the first group returned. Jim was not surprised to find that those who had spotted their little challenges first were Simon, Hadji, Jessie, Daryl, Ngama, and Joel. Jonny, Kaimi, and Eric were a little behind along with Brian and Henri and Luka.

One by one, Blair had the returning individuals write down their findings before he sent them to their places. The rest of the group started to return in greater numbers until only a few stragglers remained. But even those who were the slowest, returning to teasing and feigned admonitions, took less than thirty minutes.

When everyone was gathered, Jim got back on the podium. "You came back first," he pointed to Simon. "What was one of the three you found?"

"The flags had been moved over," Simon answered.

Blair grinned. That had been his idea. Along the back wall of the greatroom, running on a ledge above the first set of windows were flags for the home nations of everyone who was a member of SELF. There were only two dozen or so of them now, but they had cut holes to stand up as many as a hundred little flagpoles. Blair had moved the whole set down by about four notches, not changing the order of them, just moving them relative to the room itself.

"Very good. Everybody got that?" Jim called.

Other than some mild cursing in Chinese under someone's breath, most people nodded.

"Now you," he pointed to Daryl. "What have you got?"

"The floor rug in the hallway was turned around." Daryl's face shone with smug triumph. "I can tell because it's got a worn corner where it hits the door to the outside and the bottom corner always scrapes over it. But that end was facing into the room this time."

"Got it in one, kid," Jim grinned. Simon clapped his son on the shoulder with pride.

"Who wants to give us the third?"

Daryl elbowed Jessie, getting Jim's attention. He called on her.

"Well, you can't say anything definitive about couches being moved around out there," she pointed back to the greatroom, "because they get moved all the time. People drag stuff clear across the room on a daily basis. So the fact that the room was different isn't what you meant, is it?"

"No, it isn't," he smiled at her. "Did everybody get that."

This time the cursing was Russian, and there was more of it. Some laughter followed.

"Then what did you find?" Jim asked Jessie.

"Well, there's a new chair. It looks just like several of the others, so I didn't spot it at first, but now there's six grey chairs instead of five. And the new one is right where Doctor Sandburg always sits – you can tell because it isn't permanently dented to how he sits in it." She grinned at the Guide who smiled back.

"Nice work," Jim approved. "Everybody see that?"

At the grumbling, Blair spoke up. "You did see it. Every one of you went out there and you could all actually perceive the changes. But just because you could see what was there doesn't mean you recognized it. That's what you have to work on. And you'll only get there by practice!"

"So start practicing," Jim said. "And when you spot something out of the ordinary, point it out. We might keep leaving little surprises like this for you for a while. And if we don't and you spot something anyway, you might be the first to warn the rest of us about something really wrong."

Jim had run out of things to say, so he turned to Sandburg who stepped to the center with a flourish and wave. "And that's your homework assignment! Class dismissed!"


	12. The Chancery Bulletin Board

Okay, I have to admit it. I've been waiting so, so anxiously to put this one up for you. This is probably one of my favorite oneshots I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it!

This takes place starting right at the end of Arc 3 and will lead us through time almost to the doorstep of Arc 4. We're almost there, everyone!

Warning – spoilers for the movie "Serenity." And a lot of Firefly references in general.

Enjoy!

* * *

-==OOO==-

The Chancery Bulletin Board

-==OOO==-

It was the very first thing they hung on the wall in the house, before even deciding where to put clocks and starting the Epic Argument About Posters In The Living Room (also known as the What Do You Mean You Don't Like Star Wars? incident).

They put it in the hall, right where it was clearly visible from the front door, the stairs, and most of the living room. It was a solid cork board where different things could be pinned or stapled, and beside it hung a nondescript whiteboard. Of course, within the first month Daryl made a sign for each. Over the cork board he put "Notices of Doom" and over the whiteboard went "Crazy Monetary Tracking of Doom." The cork board was an all-purpose free-for-all, but the whiteboard was the unique responsibility of Eric, who had been charged with keeping track of the house's bills and costs and keeping them divided fairly (which also eventually turned into a rough barter system in which others in the house bought him groceries so he'd keep track of the balances of debts for them).

The cork board acquired everything from emergency phone numbers, class schedules, and candid photos to an ongoing note-leaving community. Whenever Chris or Blair came by, they always laughed at what they called the evidence of a small tribal society made up of the Chancery's occupants and frequent visitors. Jim and Simon pretended to be immune, but they, too, were amused by the insight into the lives of the kids. Race and Benton, old hands at such a thing from years of messages at the Quest compound, just waited for the true silliness to emerge. Which it did its very first day; because the board was out in the open, they decided to utilize a euphemism when they needed to discuss Sentinels – in honor of Jim and Blair, they called it "going fishing."

Although after only a few weeks all eight of the inmates could tell handwriting apart, they usually signed their notes. It helped that between Jonny Quest, Hadji Singh (Quest), Jessie Bannon, Daryl Banks, Eric Faulk, Lai Gardner, Ngama Zimbati, and Kaimi Waihee, nobody had the same set of initials.

Over the years, the board acquired a series of memorable notes, often begun torn from a notebook and commentary added in the margins or additional sheets pinned nearby:

"Gone to Jamaica, back by spring. – JQ"  
"WHAT? – DB"  
"Jessie told me to leave a note when I left. – JQ"  
"I wanted to know when you went to the library to see if I should join you. That is NOT a valid note, Jonny. – JB"  
"It is if I can get dad to lend me the jet! – JQ"  
"Take me with you! – EF"

-==OOO==-

"Missing: 1 red hat. Last seen in the kitchen. If found, reward of gratitude. – KW"  
"Found: 1 red hat. It was in the dishwasher. No, I don't know why. – HS"  
"I'm baking cookies sometime to surprise you but I'll wait until Jonny and Ngama are 'out fishing' so they don't find them all before you get some. – KW"  
"Thanks for saying so. Now they'll never go and when will I get to swipe some cookies!? – DB"  
"I'm a spy. Follow my lead. – LG"  
"Though I will be grateful regardless, I feel the need to point out that it's not a very good surprise if you tell me what the reward is. – HS"  
"Ignore him. BAKE COOKIES. – DB"

-==OOO==-

"Sunday dinner. You guys could use a study break. See you at the lodge. – Blair"  
"I've got a paper on chaos theory due. I elect to remain here to work. I will also vacuum any room that is moderately tidy. – HS"  
"Come to the lodge anyway. Then you can observe chaos theory in action. – Jim"  
"No! Stay home! Study! And _please_ vacuum! – KW"

-==OOO==-

"Daryl, I'm putting you on notice. You owe the house account $37 for groceries from last month. Pay up or I'll get Jonny to hack your funds from SELF and redirect them. – EF"  
"What the hell do I owe $37 for? – DB"  
"All the cooking supplies (flour, sugar, spices, etc) we bought for the house when we stocked up, divided by the 8 of us. – EF"  
"Okay, that's not fair. First, I never cook anyway. Second, I've never even heard of some of the stuff in the cupboards and spice rack. You can't charge me for that. – DB"  
"Oh yes I can. Roommate agreement contract, clause 4, bullet 3. – EF"  
"Why'd we put him in charge of the finances again? – DB"  
"Because he's good at it. – NZ"  
"Speaking of cooking, how'd you weasel out of that on the chores rotation? I'm adding you back in. – LG"  
"No! Don't! Seriously. We'll just end up eating pizza all the time. I swapped all his cooking shifts for my turns cleaning the bathrooms. Daryl, I really like you, but we both know I'm never eating your cooking again after that…thing. –JB"  
"It was supposed to be lasagna!"  
"That pan never recovered. – JQ"  
"Thanks for reminding me. Add $15 for the pan you ruined. – EF"  
" :-P "

-==OOO==-

"Why is there an OLD banana stapled to the board? STAPLED! – LG"  
"You don't want to know. – HS"  
"You're absolutely right. I don't. I retract the question. But if it starts to smell, no reason you can provide will save it. – LG"  
"Fair enough. – HS"

-==OOO==-

"Heads up. We've got door-to-door religion people trying to convert us. – JQ"  
"What religion? – NZ"  
"Well, they opened with telling me we're all living in sin, so probably not one that's going to be okay with fishing. – JQ"  
"The next time they come back, tell them we're too busy having orgies to be properly worshipful. – LG"  
"…I'll be in my bunk. – EF"  
"What? – NZ"  
"HAVE YOU NEVER SEEN FIREFLY? MARATHON. THIS WEEKEND. MANDATORY. – JQ"  
"Yes, sir, Captain Tight-Pants. – JB"

-==OOO==-

"Does anyone know who drank all the green tea? – KW"  
"That was me. Sorry. I'll bring more next week. – Chris"  
"No problem. Thanks! – KW"  
"Invaders! Everybody look out! We've got infiltrators stealing our food! Somebody call out the guard! – DB"  
"Late night, my friend? – HS"  
"I hate exams. – DB"  
"If we have a tea-stealer, maybe we should invest in a guard dog. – JB"  
"I thought we had Jonny and Eric for that. – LG"  
"Jonny, if you bite my boyfriend, I'm telling Race you've been looking flabby and he should make you run a couple of miles. – EF"  
"My hero! – Chris"

-==OOO==-

"Ellison! My office! Now! – Simon"  
"How does that even work? You're not in the house, you had no idea when I'd been here…why am I even leaving you a note? – Jim"  
"I was just curious to see what you would do. – Race"  
"Oh gods help us. The adults are trying to prank each other on our board. – LG"  
"Get your own bulletin board! – DB"  
"We have one. It's called Sandburg's desk. – Simon (for real)"  
"Hey! If you're leaving notes on my desk, how come I never see any? – Blair"  
"Seen your desk lately? – Jim"  
"Never mind. If anybody needs me, I'll be at the station doing some cleaning. – Blair"

-==OOO==-

"Attention all Quests: Race's birthday is Tuesday. Standard plan? – JQ"  
"Absolutely. – HS"  
"Wouldn't miss it! – JQ"  
"What is it? – NZ"  
"You're better off not knowing. Plausible deniability. – JQ"  
"I'll bring the buckets. – HS"

-==OOO==-

"Hey, Kaimi? Do you eat ketchup? – EF"  
"Uh…sure? Why? – KW"  
"Just figuring out if I'm dividing the bottle of ketchup by 7 people or 8 for the house budget. – EF"  
"Man, you need a hobby! –JQ"  
"I have already called Chris to assist. – HS"  
"Ha ha. Very funny. Thanks, though. Kaimi – you owe me 85 cents on top of the invoice I already sent. – EF"  
"He sends invoices? – Benton"  
"Think we can get him to take over the financials up at the lodge? – Race"  
"It depends. How's the pay scale for recent grads? – EF"  
"Don't give in unless you get a bonus in unlimited ketchup supplies. – KW"  
"Or at least unlimited whiteboard markers! Keeping track of the budget has gone through multiple packs in a matter of months! – JB"  
"Both terms are negotiable. – Benton"

-==OOO==-

"Where did this picture come from? – JQ"  
"I found it. – HS"  
"Why did you put it up? – JQ"  
"Because it made me laugh. – HS"  
"It's adorable! – KW"  
"If you failed to notice, that's my naked butt sticking up out of a pile of mud! – JQ"  
"I know! – KW"  
"Kaimi, clearly you need to get out more if you're so attached to Jonny's 4-year-old butt. – JB"  
"And the award for the STRANGEST thing on the board to date goes to Jessie! – DB"  
"You're welcome. – JB"  
"Kaimi, I request the honor of your presence at dinner tonight. Without Jonny's butt. – NZ"

-==OOO==-

"Anybody want to take advanced quantum mechanics with me next term? – HS"  
"Sure! – JB"  
"I owe you one, Ace. Otherwise he'd guilt me into it. – JQ"  
"Good. Pay up. You're taking Modern Feminism with me. – JB"  
"Right on! – LG"  
"Actually, I was already going to take it. – JQ"  
"You're such a good boy. – KW"  
"I'm taking it also. – NZ"  
"Even better. – KW"  
"Such enlightened men in this house. – Benton"  
"So…nobody wants to take _The Horror Genre 101: A Study of Forensics as Portrayed in Film_ with me? – DB"  
"That's my whole life already, man. – Blair"  
"I would if I could. I'll check my teaching schedule and see if I can squeeze it in! – Chris"  
"Remember that folktale I told with the monster that turns its victims inside out? This is so much worse. – Blair"  
"It's just jelly. And non-house-regulated ketchup. – DB"  
"I do NOT regulate the ketchup in the house! – EF"  
"Is anybody surprised that a discussion of quantum mechanics turned into a budget rant again? – LG"  
"THIS IS NOT A RANT! – EF"

-==OOO==-

"Wanted. One pair of snow pants and somebody to teach me to go sledding. – KW"  
"What are you going to sled in, the slush? – DB"  
"If I have to! – KW"  
"Fine. You can use mine. Meet you at 6 behind the stadium. – DB"

-==OOO==-

"There's a hole in my bucket, dear Jessie, dear Jessie. – KW"  
"I'm missing a reference here. – NZ"  
"It's a rhyme. I don't know what she wants, though. Kaimi? Clarify? – JB"  
"Okay. For the literal-minded: There's a hole in my backpack, dear Jessie, dear Jessie. – KW"  
"Then fix it, dear Kaimi, dear Kaimi. Fix it. – JB"  
"With what shall I fix it, dear Jessie, dear Jessie? – KW"  
"With some duct tape, dear Kaimi, dear Kaimi. Duct tape! (Duct tape fixes everything!) Or, alternatively: With a new one, dear Kaimi, dear Kaimi. – JB"  
"Somebody stop them! – LG"  
"How? We're not prying down the board, and I think that's the only way. We didn't take it down when Jonny's butt was on it for a full semester. – DB"  
"Oh, I meant to put that picture back up. Thanks for reminding me. – HS"  
"THANKS A LOT. – JQ"  
"So, what was all that duct tape backpack business, anyway? – EF"  
"That was a long and earworm-y way of Kaimi telling Jessie she needs a new backpack and asking if she wanted to go shopping. – LG"  
"How do you know these things? – NZ"  
"I live in the same room with them. Some things are contagious. – LG"  
"Including, apparently, butt pictures! Hadji, is that you? – KW"  
"Evidently my brother has decided on petty revenge. – HS"  
"You call it petty. I call it karma. – JQ"  
"Well, if anybody else wants a ride in the karma to the store, be here Friday after lunch. – JB"

-==OOO==-

"Some friends are playing their first gig at Coffee-2-Go this weekend. Anybody wanna come? – LG"  
"Do you mean Ryan? – KW"  
"Yeah, why? – LG"  
"I've heard them. More like 'Eardrums-2-Go.' Fishermen, stay home! – KW"

-==OOO==-

"I'm posting my finals schedule here so you can all see it. Might make it easier to coordinate stuff for the next few weeks. – JB"  
"Jessie, let me ask. Were you intending to sleep at all? – HS"  
"Very funny. Says the guy taking half again as many credits in two majors! – JB"  
"He's got a point, Jess. You're going to be awfully busy. And next Thursday is kind of a big deal. – DB"  
"It is? How so? – JB"  
"It's been a year since I first asked you out on a date. – DB"  
"It's been a YEAR? How did I miss that? I'm so sorry! I totally forgot! – JB"  
"Time flies when you're having FUN. – JQ"  
"Don't you start, Jonny, or I'll sic Hadji on you. Daryl, what's your schedule for finals? We'll find a time! – JB"  
"I pinned it up next to yours. It's looking pretty hopeless unless we have a 5am breakfast. – DB"  
"I'm all for celebrating our anniversary, but not THEN. – JB"  
"I believe you have overlooked the obvious. Please note where I have marked both your schedules. – NZ"  
"Yeah, but we're supposed to be running an introduction to the Quest computers for some of the newbies up at the lodge at that time. Thanks for the effort. – DB"  
"Clearly you have missed the point. Ngama and I shall handle it for you. – HS"  
"You are the BEST! I could kiss the both of you! Thanks so much! – JB"  
"You can if you want to. I mean, I'm not bothered and I'm not jealous and we've all lived together for a year and it's all fine, but I'd still kind of rather you don't, please. – DB"  
"No worries, Daryl. She gave us hugs instead. And all her notes. Much more helpful. – NZ"  
"If you're still feeling bereft, Ngama, let me know... – KW"  
"Ooh, looks like we need a _Board of Doom: After Dark_ edition. – EF"  
"With Jim around, plus our dads? No way. – JB"  
"Write it in invisible ink! – KW"  
"OH MY GOD THAT ACTUALLY WORKS! – KW"  
"I'll be setting up testing of invisible ink for you fishermen next week. Thanks for the idea! – Blair"  
"You gave him IDEAS. Thanks a lot, guys. – Jim"  
"The things we do to try to date around here. – DB"  
"Yeah, but it's worth it. – JB"  
"Yes, it definitely is. – DB"

-==OOO==-

"IMPORTANT. Our lease is up at the end of the month. Anybody want out of this madhouse? Leave me a note below if you don't want me to just automatically renew for all of us for next year."

-==OOO==-

"I've updated the chores roster and posted it here. After a year of living together, I think I know better who can be relied upon to do what and who will just trade and swap until they get stuff they want. – LG"  
"Wait, why do Ngama and I have all the bathroom cleaning? – JQ"  
"Because we just spent a year listening to you complain about the slime everywhere! – JB"  
"Because there was, in fact, slime everywhere. – NZ"  
"And you and Jonny can actually tell the difference. So you clean. – KW"  
"Game, set, and match, my friend. – HS"

-==OOO==-

"Follow-up to IMPORTANT: The lease is all taken care of. Though there's one more line in the agreement this time. 'Renters will repair the damage caused in the backyard to the grass and establish a nice garden.' I'm thinking either Japanese rock garden or else a bed of poisonous and carnivorous plants. Any other suggestions?"  
"You can't just plant a few flowers and be done with it? – Jim"  
"Where's the fun in that? – JQ"  
"I vote a kindergarten of increasingly ugly lawn gnomes. – EF"  
"Can't we do both? – JQ"  
"I like the way you think, sir. – EF"

-==OOO==-

"General note. If anybody catches Hadji up all night watching competitive poker, please force him to go to bed by any means necessary. – JQ"  
"I merely needed something in the background to keep me awake while finishing my reading for my thesis. – HS"  
"But I was gonna take him around the clubs this weekend! Hadji'd be the best card shark ever! – EF"  
"Get your own card-counting master of probability. – JQ"  
"Hey Lai? You doing anything this weekend? – EF"

-==OOO==-

"In case it needs saying: I HATE WINTER! – KW"  
"Then why do you live in Cascade? – NZ"  
"Uh, Ngama? Think before you ask stupid questions of which you are the beneficiary. – DB"  
"On the plus side, there's lots of hot chocolate in the kitchen and Doctor Quest just sent over a huge pile of fleece blankets. Weekend of couch cuddling anybody? – JB"  
"I take it back. I like winter! – KW"  
"As do I. – NZ"

-==OOO==-

"Anybody want to go out on the town this Friday night? – DB"  
"And do what, exactly? – LG"  
"I don't know! Whatever normal non-caught-up-in-fishing-stuff young people do! – DB"  
"So, drink to excess, experiment with recreational drugs which may result in long-term damage or addiction depending upon the quantities, make poor sexual choices, and proceed to spend the following morning curled around a toilet bemoaning one's folly? – NZ"  
"Well, when you put it like that, who's up for a trip to the lodge? – DB"  
"You guys must REALLY like fishing. – Chris"  
"Some more than others. – HS"  
"That is…I don't even know how to interpret… – EF"  
"Then do not attempt it. Or go imbibe to excess to clear your mind. – HS"  
"It serves you right. You're not the only one who can leave suggestive commentary on the board. – NZ"  
"Yeah, but I'm better at it than you. I am very skilled in a variety of... – EF"  
"Yeah, quit while you're ahead, buddy. – DB"

-==OOO==-

Follow-up to Follow up of IMPORTANT: Notice to all residents and guests. Do not walk through the backyard. Any rashes, blisters, or ailments you may acquire from exposure to our garden is your own fault. Thanks. The Management."  
"Note – time to invest in a better first aid kit. – JB"

-==OOO==-

"What's this doing here? – JB"  
"Somebody threw out a perfectly good Stop sign. I rescued it. – EF"  
"Why? – JB"  
"Uh…it's a conversation piece? – EF"  
"I should say the opposite. Everyone who has seen it thus far has obeyed its command and stopped to stare at it awkwardly. – HS"  
"Maybe we should put it over Blair's desk at the SELF house. – JB"  
"WHO PUT THE STOP SIGN OVER MY DESK? – Blair"  
"The Chancery pleads the fifth."

-==OOO==-

"Anybody want to have a Mario Kart tournament of champions? – DB"  
"Yeah! Set it up and we'll do it on Sunday! – KW"  
"Don't invite Jim. – Simon"  
"Why? – EF"  
"Because the department will dock his pay if he crashes any more cars, even virtual ones! – Blair"  
"Sandburg, I know where you live. – Jim"  
"Good thing Simon's giving me a ride home, then! – Blair"

-==OOO==-

"Jessie, what is that? – LG"  
"It's the tally-board for Jonny and I and the bets we make. –JB"  
"YOU'VE BEEN KEEPING SCORE? – JQ"  
"Apparently for the last six years. – HS"  
"Aw, don't feel too bad, Jonny. Maybe in another six years you can close the gap. And who knows? Six years after that you might catch up. – JB"  
"Only if you are employing an assumption that you will win at a far lesser rate than you have to date, Jessie. In 12 years at the current rate, Jonny will be behind your score by … – HS"  
"Who's side are you on, anyway, Hadj?! – JQ"  
"Just 'cause he's right is no reason to scratch out his message, Jonny! – JB"  
"Hey, when you're so far behind, you gotta do whatever it takes to catch up! I bet you that in 10 years I'll be ahead! – JQ"  
"We'll see about that. I WILL be keeping track. – JB"  
"See you at the finish line, Ace. – JQ"

-==OOO==-

"WHY ARE ALL THE LAWN GNOMES SET UP IN THE LIVING ROOM? – Race"  
"Maybe they don't like the rain. – Blair"  
"This is your fault somehow, I know it, Sandburg. – Jim"  
"I didn't do it! – Blair"  
"Go argue on your own board! – JQ"  
"In time this board will be OURS and we will reign supreme!"  
"Who said that? – Jim"  
"Maybe it was the gnomes."

-==OOO==-

"Anybody want to hit the Jags game next weekend? – Jim"  
"Count us in – JQ & HS"  
"Us too! – DB & JB"  
"No thank you. – KW & NZ"  
"It's finally happened. They're pairing off. Quick, let's go on a date, Eric! – LG"  
"That man is MINE. Go find your own guy. Or girl. Whatever. – Chris"  
"I'm sure Marc would be happy to date you, Lai. – DB"  
"Ooh, low blow, Banks. – EF"  
"I said guy. Or girl. Psychotic lowlifes do not count. – Chris"  
"And I think calling him that is an insult to the psychotic lowlife community. – DB"  
"Isn't that a bit harsh? – NZ"  
"OMG DIDN'T YOU EVEN WATCH FIREFLY? – EF"  
"I may have nodded off at some point… – NZ"  
"Time to make it an annual Firefly marathon! Kaimi, you're on Ngama Sleep Duty! – JQ"  
"Yes sir, Captain! – KW"  
"If Jonny's the captain, clearly Kaimi is Kaylee. I'm Zoe, which makes Daryl Wash. – JB"  
"So…Ngama as Simon? Hadji's definitely Book. Lai and Eric – votes? – JQ"  
"I'd like to think I'm smarter and more loyal than Jayne. Can I be River? Then I can kick ass and kill you all with my brain. – EF"  
"Fine with me. I guess that makes me Inara. Is that weird? – LG"  
"Very, but also weirdly accurate. – KW"  
"I'm good with being Wash. – DB"  
"By chance, have you seen the movie yet? – HS"  
"No. Why? – DB"  
" :-( "

-==OOO==-

"If anybody sees a towel with a giant red flower on it, it's mine. Can you give it back? – LG"  
"Um…I used it. – EF"  
"For what? – LG"  
"I'll just buy you a new one. – EF"  
"Oh gods I don't want to know. – LG"

-==OOO==-

"Hereby let it be known that the Alliance of Garden Gnomes have submitted the following list of demands to their keepers: unlimited ketchup and white-board markers, unfettered access to Daryl's cooking, a giraffe, a sample of Blair Sandburg's luxurious hair, a turban woven of Hadji's quotes, a three-day week, and a picture of the bathtub in the girls' room."  
"WHO IS LEAVING GNOME NOTES? – EF"  
"I'm on the case. – JQ"  
"Me too. – HS"  
"Got any suspects yet? – KW"  
"Yes. Vengeance will be ours soon. Fear not, denizens of Chancery! We've got you covered! – JQ"  
"That was NOT funny, Quest."  
"That'll teach you to mess with our board, Henri! – JQ"  
"Henri, you owe me $50 for the dry-cleaning. – Brian"

-==OOO==-

"Is it me, or has there been a strong increase in the number of plastic dinosaurs popping up around the house? – NZ"  
"It's for Daryl. He's not over the movie yet. – JB"  
"Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal! – JQ"  
"I finally got that one. – NZ"  
"I'll be in my bunk…weeping. – DB"  
"I want to be someone! – Chris"  
"This is not the time for existential crises. – HS"  
"I mean in Firefly! – Chris"  
"Well, you can be Jayne. – KW"  
"Pass. – Chris"  
"Or you can be some one-episode character who gets killed or turns out to be evil. – EF"  
"I guess I'll be The Man They Call Me! – Chris"  
"Wanna hang out in my bunk? – EF"  
"Your roommate is weeping all over it. – JQ"  
"Damn. Captain, can I have a shuttle? – EF"  
"Dude. Your boyfriend has his own room. Go on a spacewalk. – JQ"  
"Well, my days of not taking you seriously are certainly coming to a middle. – Jim"

-==OOO==-

"Hey everybody. I've dropped off a box of finals essentials. Coffee, cookies, energy drinks, tea for those of you with healthier sensibilities, a fresh supply of printer paper and ink, and a few motivational items. Good luck! – Blair"  
"Sandburg, why the hell was there a slinky in that box? – Jim"  
"It's motivation! I always liked the noise it makes. – Blair!"  
"If we needed further proof that you are not a fisherman, there it is. – NZ"  
"You're just doing it to torture us, aren't you? – JQ"  
"Hey, the sooner you finish, the sooner you guys can come up to the lodge for a while! We just put in a full paint-ball course and some of the new arrivals want to plan a movie marathon. – Blair"  
"Everybody. STUDY FASTER. I'll see you on the paintball court, Quest. – EF"  
"You and what army? – JQ"  
"How about Jim and I? – Race"  
"IT'S SO ON! – JQ"


	13. Antithesis

Something a little different for this round. This is officially the end of Arc 3.5. Stay tuned for Arc 4 beginning next week!

Enjoy!

* * *

-==OOO==-

Antithesis

-==OOO==-

The man walked into the room with his head up, although he knew his heart was thudding in his chest and he trembled very slightly. The disconcertingly-plain room only added to his anxiety.

 _I wish there was an ornate, expensive carpet or something_ , his runaway thoughts babbled a little hysterically. _Then I'd be at least assured that he would hesitate before spilling my blood on it._

"Samuels," Doctor Zin spoke without looking up. "Report."

Samuels stopped a pace before the simple desk, fixing his eyes on the blank space just in front of the keyboard. He knew if his gaze strayed to the monitor, turned mostly away from the room but just peeking into the edge of visibility where it was angled to Doctor Zin's right, he would die before he could ask for forgiveness.

"The new location has been completed," he said, beginning with the good news. "It will be ready for your use whenever you deem it the proper time."

"Ahead of schedule," Doctor Zin said coolly.

Samuels would take it. 'Coolly' meant he might live to see another day. "However, an aberration has been uncovered within the operation."

"What is it?" Doctor Zin actually stopped typing and looked at the man.

"Miss Yi has been attempting to access files outside her assignment, including those we have hijacked from external sources."

Doctor Zin frowned dangerously. "And the result of her spying?"

"It…appears that she has…exposed a portion of our network to local authorities."

"That _foolish cow_!" Doctor Zin slammed a fist on his desk. "Anaya! Melana!"

A door to one side opened and the two daughters of Doctor Zin entered. Samuels had never troubled himself to tell them apart – they were identically lethal. In a flowing symmetry, they took up positions at their father's sides, their cold eyes turned on the man who had displeased him.

"What is your will, father?" one of the twins asked.

"Miss Yi has betrayed us," he answered. "She must be dealt with, and quickly, before she becomes a liability. I want you to handle it personally."

"Yes, father," they said together.

Samuels suppressed a shudder. _If I can get out of this room without a death sentence, I will never, ever betray or fail Doctor Zin – I swear it. Anything to keep those wolves from hunting me down as they will Yi. There's nowhere on earth safe from them_.

The other twin looked appraisingly at Samuels. "Do you need us to eliminate this vermin as well?"

Doctor Zin peered at the man before shaking his head. "No. He will continue to serve me well for now."

Samuels would have gone to his knees if it would have helped. It wouldn't, so he bowed his head. "Yes, Doctor Zin."

"Go now," Doctor Zin waved at the door. "Continue to ready my stronghold in the West."

Samuels did not hesitate, but turned and walked quickly from the room.

"Father," Anaya said, "will you not punish him for his failure?"

"Why should I?" Zin leaned back. "He discovered a traitor and identified her to me. A traitor whose work has been instrumental in bringing my ultimate goal to the point of reality. He could have ignored or hidden what he had found, and had he done so, my entire plan would be in danger. He failed, yes, but he is loyal and he fears me correctly."

"You are wise, father," Melana said.

"We crush our enemies, my daughters. We cannot crush our own loyal subjects or we will lose our power over them. You must both learn this if you wish to succeed."

"Yes, father," they chorused.

"After you have finished with Yi, I wish for you to make a stop. There is a man whose loyalty must be bought, but I have wealth enough to afford it. And he has a…unique perspective on the game to come. I want him brought to me." Doctor Zin reached into the bottom drawer of his desk and drew out a folder. "Offer him whatever it is that interests him most. We will gladly pay it."

"Should we be hiring common mercenaries, father?" Anaya asked.

"There is nothing common about this man," Doctor Zin shook his head. "And what makes him uncommon will be a blow against my enemies."

-==OOO==-

Anaya was flying the little jet to Hong Kong for their first task when the sharp buzz from the communicator sounded.

"I've got it," Melana said. She hit the switch. "Zinjet in."

"Melana," came Doctor Zin's voice. "Your objective has changed."

She glanced at her sister, hearing the barely-voiced _fury_ in his tones. "How so, father?"

"Miss Yi has been arrested. Before my closest agent could secure her files, however, they suffered an _accident_ ," he almost snarled the word. "The man who arrested Yi is a known associate of Race Bannon."

"We will eliminate Yi before she has the chance to betray us again," Melana said. "Do you wish us to try to recover anything?"

"Yes," Doctor Zin hissed. "If that Boy Scout of Quest's hasn't already seen to it. And do not allow yourselves to be seen."

"Understood, father. Zinjet out." Melana cut the connection. Then she turned to her sister. "Will you be able to handle this assignment?"

"What are you implying, _sister_?" Anaya growled at her with almost the same tone their father had used.

"You have proved to be less than logical when it involves the Quests," Melana said, frowning. "Particularly Hadji."

"You're imagining things," Anaya scoffed.

"No, I am not. In the two years since our last encounter with him and Doctor Sandburg, you have deviated from missions six times. Each of those times corresponded to the potential for involvement by Doctor Quest or his family. Father does not yet know because I have covered for you." Melana's voice went cold. "I will not do it much longer."

"Are you accusing me of having _feelings_ for a _Quest_?" Anaya put the jet on autopilot so she could turn to her sister fully.

"Perhaps," Melana shrugged.

Anaya felt a primal roar crawling up her throat, which she quashed mercilessly. Instead, she hit the button in the cockpit that disabled any and all recording or transmitting devices and wiped their stored memory clean. It was common enough for the twins to receive secret orders and do just that; none would notice it when the plane was examined later. Only when no record of her words would exist did she unlock her jaw.

"First, sister, do not think for one moment that I have forgotten who I am. I am a Zin now and forever. I carry our father's blood and his will. I will never betray that."

Melana looked at her mildly, but nodded. "I believe you," she said truthfully.

"Second, Hadji is nothing to me but a means to an end. As an heir to Doctor Quest, he would be valuable as a hostage or a consort if he were to join us willingly. And as a Guide…" Anaya trailed off.

That point didn't need to be belabored. In the two years since being disabled by Blair Sandburg and Hadji Singh, both sisters had struggled with their burgeoning Sentinel powers, often falling insensible and taking extreme measures to rouse. It was why they were now unable to complete missions alone. They would trust none but one another, so they were forced to work twice as hard, as their father did not let up in his expectations no matter the circumstances. To compensate for their tendency towards weakness, they had developed a system of using different senses at different times so whatever impetus would disable one would not take down the other with her and she would be free to revive her sister. They knew, however, from their surveillance, that the Sentinel called Jim Ellison had no such limitations, nor did Jonny Quest. They had not discussed it, for their father did not see any value in a so-called Guide, but both sisters knew well that their lack of one was the difference.

Melana frowned. "You are lying, Anaya. Even another Sentinel would know."

Anaya cursed and looked away.

"You _do_ have feelings for him." Melana glared. "I should inform our father."

"You wouldn't dare!" Anaya rounded on her sister. "You would bring everything crashing down on us all! Father has always held one rule true – that we Zins are a dynasty and we will not fall to outsiders. You would truly destroy that by bringing me down from within?"

"If you cannot be trusted, perhaps you yourself should visit the Facility." Melana threatened it, but she felt the wash of cold in her stomach at the suggestion.

Anaya blanched as she never would have before anyone else alive or dead. "No."

"Then talk to me!" Melana exploded. "Stop concealing it and together we may be able to find a solution."

Anaya considered her sister. They had been together, united, since birth. They were one in thought and intent and deed. If she could not speak to Melana, she would have no peace.

"Do you remember that Sentinel we killed? The one father sent us to interrogate and determine if she was a candidate for the operation in the Arctic a few years ago?"

"Yes. She had been in Cascade with Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg," Melana nodded. "We judged her too insane to be of any use for the program, raving and lunatic when she wasn't spontaneously comatose."

"When you went to alter the records to show that she had been mis-prescribed the drug we used, she spoke to me. She was vaguely lucid." Anaya remembered it well. The woman had been chilling in her affect, utterly insane in a way that set her teeth on edge. "She told me that her only true undoing was in killing Blair Sandburg. That he had slid under her skin like an itch and she believed the only way to remove him was by death. But he survived. She spoke of a strange lust for Jim Ellison, but her feelings for Blair Sandburg were much deeper, and much darker."

Melana nodded. "And this is the state of your heart?"

"Sometimes," Anaya said. "It is…like a tic, an obsession that comes and goes like the sensory storms. And it has been so since the first instant his scent entered our outpost in Russia."

"Father does not believe that a Guide is born," Melana said slowly, "but the Quests obviously do. Perhaps there is something in that Guide that calls to you as a Sentinel. Something I do not share, somehow."

Anaya didn't respond to that. For all she and her sister were twins in everything, there was one critical difference between them – Anaya had more of their father's rage, while Melana was more possessed of his calm calculation. Even if they were the same in every other way, Melana might never acknowledge such a strange passion, nor permit it to enter her mind. Anaya was much more driven by those darker desires.

"What should we do?" Melana asked, her face softening as it only ever did for her sister. "Do you want him? If we abducted him, I am sure father would disapprove, and it would bring Quest down upon us, but perhaps you might be willing to accept the consequences?"

"No," Anaya shook her head, a small smile playing upon her lips. "But thank you for the offer. No, my loyalty is with our father and I would not disrupt his plans at this time for no better reason than such foolishness. Besides, I do not wish to face him until I understand this compulsion or until I have some means of binding him to it."

"Very well," Melana said. "Then let us make this agreement. We will continue as we have and I will keep your secret. But you will accept my orders if I believe you have been lost to this obsession. I will not permit you to betray our cause."

"Agreed," Anaya said, honestly grateful. "I would rather you killed me with your own hands than permit me to move against our father."

"As would I," Melana nodded. "But I hope it does not come to that, sister."

They continued the flight in silence.

-==OOO==-

In the relatively small police station that was holding Miss Yi, Anaya and Melana easily incapacitated the few guards they encountered, blacking out the cameras as they went. Without a second thought, they executed the other three prisoners in the holding cell before they faced Yi.

"You are from our master," Miss Yi rose to her feet, crossing the crude cell to the bars. "You must release me, quickly! I have information that he will want to hear, a weakness in our program!"

"You have failed our master," Melana said coldly. "You betrayed him."

"I did it for his own good!" Miss Yi protested. "There are things about Sentinels – things he doesn't know!"

"You have endangered our operation and may have alerted the Quests to our activities," Anaya said. "You know the punishment."

Miss Yi visibly paled. "No…p…please," she pleaded. "I was only…it was to help…"

"Your assistance is no longer required," Melana said. Then she casually fired, shooting the woman through the heart.

The twins did not even bother to watch the body fall. They moved upstairs, easily evading detection or disabling and killing guards as needed. It took only a few moments for the pair of them to break into the police system to see what evidence had been collected.

"There is too much here," Anaya said. "Quest will use this."

"Then we eliminate it, and anyone who has seen it."

-==OOO==-

By the time they left Hong Kong, twenty men and women were dead and the building had suffered a catastrophic electrical system overload. However, there was nothing to be done for Miss Yi's lab. Her computers had been so thoroughly purged, even the pair of them could not retrieve whatever she had encoded. So they simply blew the place up instead, rather than risk Doctor Quest be able to retrieve anything left within it.

When their plane passed over the Pacific Northwest of the United States, Anaya twitched sharply, but she did not deviate from their plans.

They touched down at a Kansas City airfield, two of their father's agents already on-site to meet them. Melana strode across the tarmac, one bag over her shoulder. Anaya was a few steps behind, and, while her sister was busy arranging transportation and the interview to come, she cast her gaze north-westward.

 _Another time, Hadji_ , Anaya thought. _But be warned, Guide. When next we meet, I will relieve myself of this burden one way or another. Either you will join us willingly, I will have you unwillingly, or you will die if that is what it takes to cure me of this. I have not yet deiced which I prefer_.

Her mind once again on her assignment, Anaya hoisted her own bag of supplies and followed her sister. They had a bargain to strike, and a few new pieces in their father's plans to set into motion. She would _not_ fail him, not so close to victory over his enemies and over those who would be subjugated to his power. Doctor Zin was father and family and tribe, and like every good Sentinel, Anaya's loyalty was absolute.

She and Melana would serve their father and his goals to bring down the hated Doctor Benton Quest and all those foolish to have allied with him. They would remake the future according to their father's will. And they would protect him and his plans with their lives.

The twin Sentinels embarked on their mission with willing gladness.


End file.
